


Angels Don't Sing Here

by stingingscorpion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: (or is it), Angst, Disabled Nicole Haught, Drug Abuse, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hunger Games AU, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, NICOLE HAUGHT WITH A TRIDENT, Nicole Haught is a smart ass, Nicole is the fish girl of my dreams, No Curse, Responsible Wynonna, Secret Organizations, Sharing a Bed, Swearing, Violence, Waverly Earp with a fricken bow and arrow, Waverly Earp-centric, WynHaught brotp, Yeehaw Wynonna, and different events woohoo, appreciation of nature, because hello nature is pretty, character death is not dolls or wayhaught, gotta have fluff baby, like hella super violence, until my dying breath, with different rules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 96,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stingingscorpion/pseuds/stingingscorpion
Summary: The Hunger Games. A cruel reminder of how miserably the rebels failed to secede from their overlords. Every year, they’re forced to watch a fight to the death. Every year, one of Waverly’s neighbors is plucked from their homes, never to be seen again.She never expects it to be her. Everyone loves Waverly. Now everyone wants Waverly to die for entertainment. Wynonna can’t do this for her. It’s time for Waverly to grow up, to stand on her own, and repay all the charity her sister has given her over the years. There’s a murder-happy tribute. Her pathetic hometown co-tribute. There’s Nicole Haught, a trident-wielding strategist who can’t stay out of Waverly’s head.She’s going to beat all of them. Waverly Earp is going to fight impossible odds and return home, to her sister. She's not letting anyone get in her way.
Relationships: Jeremy Chetri/Robin Jett, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 71
Kudos: 215





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long ass time ago, like legitimately years and YEARS ago, someone commented on my first fic that I should do a Hunger Games AU. At first I was like “haha yeah!” and then one day I woke up with wide eyes and here we are.
> 
> I did change a few rules and some of the lore to better fit the environment of Wynonna Earp, and for the sake of giving myself a new world to build (instead of rebuilding someone else's). I also didn’t want to copy and paste the original story by Suzanne Collins. There will be similar events, but I've tried to keep the two stories as unique as possible.
> 
> It’s been a moment since I last posted. In truth, I got started on this story back in July. I officially broke the first chapter in August, and didn’t stop until the piece was finished. From top to bottom, this AU is completely edited and ready to go. I plan to upload every Friday until it’s done. I also have a couple other projects I’ll be working on, on the side.
> 
> I present to you, my Wynonna Earp/Hunger Games AU.

Forever. She could sit in this moment forever. The light catches so right. Her fingers speak on the paper, capturing this moment for the rest of her life, for as long as she can see. For as long as she will be blessed enough to take this in. The evening sun, dressed in red, orange, and gold, swims in the creek she’s known for years. The creek is one of her very best friends, yet she’s managed to spend years not appreciating this sight. She wonders if it looked different, back then. Before all this separation. Destruction. Starvation.

Maybe she just reads too many books.

“Catch!”

A roll of bread flies in her direction. It knocks the pencil from her hand, the other fumbling to catch the item, a sacred gift. The only other blessing she doesn’t take for granted. It falls from her hands and rolls off her notebook to the dirt at her boots.

“You didn’t catch it!”

Waverly Earp stammers in disbelief. “People are starving! Don’t waste food like that, Wynonna!”

“You’re the wasteful one, dropping food.” Her older sister kneels next to her, the light that formerly aided Waverly’s creation now bouncing off Wynonna’s Earp’s eyes. They sparkle like the diamonds the elite citizens of the Union might be found with. “And _I’m_ one of those starving people, so I can be as offensive as I want.”

“That’s not how that works,” Waverly mumbles.

“Loosen up, kid,” Wynonna says, returning to a stand at her full height. She’s never been much taller than Waverly, but Waverly looks up to her. In more ways than one. Wynonna hands Waverly a bow, wooden and handcrafted with careful hands, and falls serious. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Gingerly, Waverly grabs the bow and collects her things. Her leather satchel slung over her shoulder, an arrow sheath over the next. This is her standard hunting gear. A knife is tucked into her boot for good measure, and her long hair is braided far out of the way.

The sisters go quiet when a small group of rabbits falls into their vision. Wynonna’s jokes and teases and occasional rants about those who live in the Union leave them. It is the woods’ turn to speak to them.

Waverly takes the opportunity to practice her newest trick, and notches two arrows on her bow. Balanced between her fingers in a fashion practiced many times. She figures if she’s going to spend so much time in this place, she might as well have some fun. 

Wynonna lowers her own weapon to watch. It’s no secret Waverly is the better archer. Wynonna always seemed perfectly happy sitting back and letting her superior snares do the work while she naps against a tree, anyway.

Two arrows, two rabbits. The arrows land perfectly through their skulls, preserving the meat. Waverly thinks nothing of it. She’s spent so long practicing, this is the result to be expected. Wynonna nudges her and celebrates.

It isn’t until they closer inspect the meat Wynonna tells her, “Mama would be proud.” She collects their game and adds it to the collection in her own leather bag, and moves them along. “Come on, let’s head back before Willa goes full Willa Mode.”

Wynonna talks of the Union. How she hates them. How they’re all criminals. Waverly can’t quite listen, only drag her muddy boots along. Any time anyone mentions Mama her head seems to swim in a fog. Not that she knew much about her. No one did.

No one knew what happened to Michelle Gibson. Some think she killed their father in the barn fire that took five others—she disappeared the same day. Mama was wild like Wynonna, or so Willa says; they thought she was crazy. Not that anyone would blame her for snuffing out Ward Earp. The only thing Waverly recalled of her father was his cruelty.

Only Wynonna could speak of Mama’s hunting. Wynonna was the only one she ever took, despite Willa being the oldest. Mama never seemed to like Willa. Waverly didn’t blame her. Willa was as cruel as Ward, without the help of drink.

Theories on Mama can wait for next time. She’s taken from her thoughts when they return to town. Return to the farmer’s market, with booths stretching down the main road. This is the routine, though today it’s on the opposite end of the day; night, not morning. 

Sneak past the un-electrified electrified fence, hunt in the woods, hop on the horses, sell to the right shady person at the market, ride home like nothing happened. The woods aren’t legal to hunt in. But when you’re starving, there’s not much else to do. The same thing goes for the mystery meat soup she and Wynonna eat. Doesn’t matter what’s in it, only that it’s edible.

The Old Woman waits for them, ready to trade and ready to make the soup from today’s catch from all her clients. Be it the illegal woods with the fence that doesn’t stop them, or stray animals from around town. On the wide plain, stray animals can be found running through any field. Wynonna’s most common excuse, when she’s stopped by local authorities for hauling a giant bag of carcasses. Not that they’d ever arrest her. They’re hungry just the same. She finds the same officers, waiting by the very same stand.

“Your finest mystery soup, Ol’ Haggie.” Old Woman, Old Hag—the merchant’s name is unknown. She never speaks. No one knows much about her, either. Wynonna is always happy to get creative.

The Peacekeeper near the stand leans against the sturdy wooden pole keeping the whole thing together. His white uniform is stained with dirt, and his red boots have scratch marks all over them. He stares at Wynonna, amused. “You should show me the ropes someday, Earp. A little one on one time never hurt.”

Waverly rolls her eyes at the flirt. Wynonna laughs, “Is the President okay with that? Ask him first for me, Pete.”

Pete scoffs, but remains amused. The way she carelessly speaks ill of the Union is something people quietly admire. The way Wynonna flashes a golden mockingjay pin—a failed creation of the Union’s scientists—tells everyone everything they need to know about Wynonna Earp: she is bold.

Waverly knows her a little better. She’s more than bold, she’s confident and strong. She holds the family together. Other people think she’s crazy and irresponsible like Mama. But Waverly isn’t other people. Other people don’t see, don’t understand. In Waverly’s eyes, Wynonna is a superhero.

“Get yourself something.”

Especially in moments like these. Moments when they’re starving, struggling to get by, Wynonna hunts extra animals to give Waverly some sense of luxury. The Old Woman keeps books, scavenged from the old world. She often lets Waverly borrow them for days until she can officially afford them. They didn’t hunt much today. But then today was different from other days, and the Old Woman liked the sisters. They kept her in business.

They are lucky to have fair skin, too, Waverly knows. Wynonna says it’s a tool of survival, and it reminds Waverly of how cruel surviving can be.

Wynonna nudges her. “Come on, contribute to the local riff raff.”

More like the place that’s kept them alive for years without parents. Both Willa and Wynonna were old enough to convince their superiors Waverly didn’t have to go to a home. Another privilege to be grateful for.

She looks over the collection and chooses a book she’s read dozens of times on loan. A tale centuries old, but reading it was always a pleasure.

Wynonna gathers their soups—rabbit, turkey, and whatever else mixed in—and bids the Old Woman farewell with a grin, placing her free hand on her sister’s back as Waverly stares at the book forever in her possession. The Peacekeeper Pete mocks how she reads so often. Wynonna tells him to shut up.

“Either way,” he adds, louder the farther the sisters get, and despite the soup of mystery meat he shovels in his mouth, “may the odds be ever in your favor tonight, Waverly!”

Waverly considers how long forever might be. She barely notices the book fall from her grasp, or her sister handing it back to her. The hand that rubs her back.

“Come on. Willa would kill us if we brought back cold soup.”

-

Wynonna speaks of it, ill fashioned, the entire ride back home. Even the horse seems to roll his eyes. The Union separating half the country, making one half work to support the lifestyles of the elites within the Capital City. Preaching togetherness, despite this reality. Pumping the country’s children with hate for their fellow humans, so they might one day participate in the Hunger Games, to win and become a “hero of the people” as adults. Yes, kids, from ages 18 to 25, you could kill your peers for glory and money! Fame! For the entertainment of the Union! All of it, to remind the five working Sectors of their failed attempt to secede almost a century ago.

Wynonna finishes her rant to Willa’s goat in the front of their property, a small cabin in the middle of a giant farmland. The stable for their horse is about the size of an outhouse. Come morning, Wynonna will ride them down the road for the woods again, before they work in the fields with dozens of others for a dozen hours. Waverly manages to escape the conversation and runs inside. 

“The only thing these games do is make us want to rebel again! God you smell terrible, you ugly old goat.” Wynonna looks back on the goat as she enters the house. “And you don’t even care. What a friggin’ life.”

Willa isn’t mad. In fact, she’s barely here as she stares out the kitchen window, a mannequin under the evening light. She springs to angry life when Wynonna throws a pebble at her. Understandably.

“Just want to make sure you’re alive,” Wynonna says. She grins wider the more Willa frowns, like the two are opposite ends of a scale. Waverly sits at the table and lets the madness happen. Pete’s words and Wynonna’s rant didn’t help. She doesn’t feel like interacting right now. Barely feels like eating right now.

Despite this, dinner goes by fast. The meal is short, and Waverly thinks it should be savored. Because when the moment is over, it’s time. 

She sits on her bed, staring at the door until Wynonna enters the room and lectures her. Can’t stay up tonight. They’ll all get into trouble. But if someone is here, that’s not their only trouble . . .

“Everybody loves you, baby girl,” Wynonna says, sitting on the bed next to her. “They all call you ‘angel’, like Mama did. Y’know, because you’re a cute little friggin’ angel.”

This makes Waverly feel slightly better. It’s true, the people in their hometown, a place they call “Purgatory”, call her an angel when she makes her way down the road. In the fields. In the treetops, picking fruit. 

“You’re going to be okay,” Wynonna tells her again. She squeezes Waverly’s hand for good measure. 

Ages 18 – 25. The Union’s preferred, perfect age group for the games. She’s 21. She squeezes Wynonna’s hand back before her sister pulls her in for a hug. Then they both take a step back in time. Wynonna tucking her into bed, making sure she’s half asleep before she kisses her forehead and leaves the room.

“Goodnight, baby girl. I love you.”

Waverly falls asleep with a grin, feeling protected. Feeling her sister’s strength.

-

Her first instinct is to panic—Purgatory is not nearly this hot. Then she screams, all her fears at once, all her anxieties and dread. But there’s no time to think, no time to be afraid. She must act. Wynonna would tell her to act, now!

She wakes upright, tied to a stake, sweating profusely as the fire grows. This is an enclosed space, underground. The stake goes all the way up to the rocky ceiling. The restraints loosen suddenly, and she leaps forward before she can be trapped again. The rocks below scrape her knees. She’s wearing the fabric. The one she sees every year and prays and prays she’ll never have to wear: the thin red and white patterned jumpsuit of a tribute.

Someone submitted her name. Another collected details about her life. The citizens of the Union voted on her. They chose her to laugh at as she gets mauled. So much for being likeable little angel Waverly Earp, the girl everyone is happy to see when she passes them by. 

The weapon rack shines at her, aided by the flames. Choices. Whoever’s trying to kill her made sure to leave her with anything but a bow. A long machete and, even more insulting, a wooden stick. A wooden stick’s supposed to save her life. She pockets the stupid thing anyway, pretending to be confident without a bow. Waverly has to keep moving. 

Torches light up, leading straight ahead to a stage. _The_ stage. When she gets here, she will be televised to the public, introduced like a TV character for their precious games. But first, she has to survive the walk. She has to prove she’s worthy of being a toy for them to play with. To bet on. To celebrate. To idolize. To be a hero of the people. Every step forward makes her sick.

Anxious. Nothing’s happened yet. She sees it every year. Under the arena, they fight muttations, genetically modified animals. A gory start to the games. A slaughterhouse for her Sector, often. Is 5 so terribly hopeless, they’d just let her walk on?

She hears it. It forces her to stop. Weapons raise. Eyes and ears, open. In the dark, something screeches, to her left. The animal, she can’t pin. It’s something small, by the sound of it. Fast, likely. Her weapon is small and light—helpful. But she still prefers a bow.

The second she resumes her pace, she hears it. She feels the room, moving. At least, that’s what it feels like. Dozens and dozens of bats, twice the size of normal bats, flock to her at an instant, flying at top speeds. She swings and downs one, but another scratches her arm. The next, her back. Leg. Abdomen. She can’t swing fast enough. There’s too many, she needs a way to—

She bumps into one of the torches. Torches. 

Stick.

Waverly chops down one of the torches before tossing the machete. Lights her stick on fire, sharing heat between the weapons. Swinging over and over at the bats, their shrieks everything she wants to hear. She pushes onward for the stage, onward to the beginning of a new end. For now, it seems less gruesome than being torn apart by giant bats. They disappear the second her boot touches the stage. It’s the first prize she’ll win in these games, if she’s lucky. 

She sees it from here. Four interconnected cave routes. Four tributes from her Sector. 5 has only utilized all four twice in its history. Maybe this is the lucky year!

It isn’t. When the ceremonies finally start, Waverly stands next to a lone boy. Young. He might be barely 18.

She can’t stop panting. She hasn’t moved in minutes, but she just can’t catch her breath. She thinks, until this is all over, she’ll never be able to catch her breath. Who did this to her? Who damned her to this place? This hell?

There’s not much time to think about it. A new tunnel opens behind her and her new associate, and two men enter. One she knows. A dark skinned man, taller despite his slouch, a look of deep dread on his face. This is Xavier Dolls, Sector 5’s only living victor. Second, of all time. He won the 75th Games. This year being number 99. 

The man next to him is odd. She doesn’t recognize him from years past. He isn’t the usual escort from the Union, the babysitter to make sure the tributes aren’t offensive to Union citizens’ uptight stature. He wears a bright purple suit, dark blue undershirt, bright red rose on his chest pocket. A tall and ridiculous looking hat perches his head, brighter than his jacket and pants. His bushy mustache swallows his upper lip and parts of his lower. The rose promises he’s a Union citizen; the president is quite the professional botanist. Still, he isn’t the usual escort. She notes Dolls looks annoyed by him already.

The Union man approaches the microphone center stage and gives a look of disappointment. Half the tributes promised in this year’s entertainment. How very, very sad for the Union. Waverly watches as he fumbles with the mic a moment, the cameras remotely controlled, looking at him from all angles. 

There are noticeably more torches on stage, perfectly capturing the sweat and terror on Waverly’s face. Painting her as a warrior, fresh from battle. This is the propaganda. This is what Wynonna rants into the woods for hours about. Loved ones, snatched in the middle of the night. Nominated by their peers, profiles built on them for the Union citizens to enjoy. To vote, on the one they think would be most entertaining to watch fight for their life. Apparently they thought Waverly would be the perfect show. The quiet little girl who hides behind her loud sister.

She realizes how severe the situation is when she can’t laugh at the Union man as he continues to fumble with the microphone. When he speaks into it, he speaks so loud he frightens himself. 

“I am not the usual escort,” he says, frustrated at this point. He has an odd accent, one different from the strange way the people of the Union speak. He stands a full foot away from the microphone now. “I am Doc Holliday, and I have the fortune of takin’ over this year’s events.”

He performs the usual protocols. Reads the history of the country, Panem. The natural disasters that destroyed the country, formally known as North America. The Dark Days of rebellion against the Union, and the nuclear warfare that made it far worse. The 6 Sectors that lost miserably, one of which left completely obliterated. How the Union can take the young adults right out of their home, right from their families, and send them to fight to the death for entertainment purposes. How they can crush anyone who dare fight back.

The list of victors. Two in history. One alive, on stage. He nudges Dolls, who stares blankly into the caves. He screams when Doc touches him. He won the 75th games. These are the 99th. He’s been in multiple caves before. Every tribute he’s ever met who emerged from this place is now dead. Every tribute he’s ever mentored, is now dead. Waverly can’t blame his mental absence. It’s her first time here, and she can barely keep it together. 

Doc talks about 5’s two tributes, strengthening their profiles for the public to adore them and want them to live. If they’re interesting enough, the public will want them to live. Waverly hopes no one ever found out about her illegal hunting. Who knows what that would mean back home. 

_Did_ they find out? Is that why she’s here? Is this her punishment, for trying to keep herself fed and alive?

No. They paint her as a farmer. She works the fields with her older sister Wynonna, and her oldest sister, Willa uses family knowledge of herbs to heal the sick in their small town. They ride horses and raise cattle. No one knows about the woods. Her bow. The market. Just horses, cattle, lassos and pig wrestling.

“Your female tribute, Miss Waverly Earp!”

She doesn’t smile, wave, act like she’s honored to be here. She was never a liar before. Why start now? Why agree to give them a show?

The boy next to her is 20. Not much younger than her. But he seems so small, so frightened, it ages him down. He is Alexandreus Phaidros, a baker from the big city in Sector 5. Other than his baby face, he looks strong for his age, probably well fed. Waverly doubts he’s ever been hungry in his life. Yet he shakes like a leaf, terrified. Perhaps he’s never known terror or struggle before.

Doc reads the Treaty of Treason in its boring entirety. Waverly looks to her fellow tribute, still shaking, crying miserably to himself at this point. Then she eyes the camera. Back home, Wynonna is watching her. Wynonna is waiting for her. Her brave, pillar of strength. Her superhero. The guardian who kept her from starvation. Who spoiled her with books and notebooks to write and draw her own stories in.

Waverly thinks of her first time in the woods. She whined about how early it was, but Wynonna didn’t care. She shoved a bow in her hand, fresh after Mama’s disappearance, and told her it was time to grow up.

It is time to grow up.

Waverly straightens herself out, standing tall. She wipes her eyes and makes a swear this will be the only time she cries over this. It’s her turn to be strong.

“I present to you, your Sector 5 warriors for the 99th Hunger Games! May they bring honor to their homeland!”

-

The more Doc excitedly gushes about the games, the more Waverly sees why Dolls is annoyed with him. They take a short transport to a new building, where Union artists will take their appearance and make them less warrior-like and more camera ready for the citizens to gawk at. Definitely less bat guts. 

The train is huge for such a small trip, and Waverly and her fellow unfortunate soul are escorted to their rooms right away to bathe before dinner. The servants are Avoxes, forced to do Union labor forever with tongues removed, punishment for anything the Union considers traitorous. Anything that isn’t considered in the name of all; in the name of those left behind after nuclear war and natural disasters ravaged the former North America. They are the survivors! They are one! They are Union! This is bullshit!

Together they are one. Together, they watch the games. Together, they remember the rebels, the idea of separation, and the lengths the Union took to destroy the 6 Sectors daring to lash out, to separate. The cursed, forbidden idea of separation. Together they can build humanity’s future. Keep humanity’s memory alive and flourish, paving the way for future generations.

Waverly avoids total eye contact and quickly enters the room. She is greeted by a huge, clean bed with the softest blankets she’s ever touched. In the center, curiously, sits a box. 

Inside, sits the golden mockingjay pin her sister wears. Tributes are allowed one item from their loved ones. Honestly, she can’t think of anything better. Other than a portal out of here and back to her woods with Wynonna.

Her woods. Wynonna. 

They won’t win. The Union, whoever sent her here, they won’t win. She knows Wynonna is betting on her. She knows Wynonna is waiting for her to come home. For everything Wynonna’s ever done for her; working doubly hard, supporting the house; making sure Waverly is fed, even if it means sacrificing her own meal; risking illegal hunting; making sure Waverly has new books and warm clothes. For everything, Waverly has to make it home. She will return to her. She will win, for Wynonna.

Waverly Earp will be the 99th victor, and no one will stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to user Lilly23992, who commented on that old fic I should do a Hunger Games AU. I literally never would have considered doing this if I never got that comment.
> 
> Super, super special thanks to my Discord group, who have been hyping this story since June. (And fluffing the shit out of my ego.)  
> Next time, we’ll see Waverly as she navigates Union fashion and spots a certain redhead. As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. I appreciate it.
> 
> Enjoy your Halloween, AKA the only holiday worth a damn—
> 
> If you want, you can locate me on the Twitter I sometimes remember to use @RJAwritesathing. I'm also on Tumblr @stinging-scorpion


	2. Chapter 2

One thing she can thank the Union for is the (ill-gotten) gift of running, hot water. No spending hours hiking down to the well down the road, hauling the water back, taking the time to boil it, and bathing before it goes cold again. 

Waverly stands in the shower for almost an hour, until she’s summoned by aggressive knocks on the door. Ironically, for a moment in time, she felt relaxed. The second she steps out of the room, she reminds herself the games have begun; she needs to keep her guard up. Use everything possible in her power, weapon or knowledge.

Nothing much at dinner. Dolls is quiet, and picks at his food like someone who really doesn’t want to be here. Doc tries not to look disgusted the way Alex digs into his food, as if he actually grew up starved. Waverly decides to join him, just to freak out this Union worker. Doc looks entirely away, and she notices Dolls actually smiles.

They retire to another part of the transport and watch the reaping of every other Sector. Embarrassingly enough, every other Sector’s four tributes made it through. Two males, two females. The intention is 20 total, but of course Waverly’s home would ruin it. It’s what everyone else hates about Sector 5. Always ruining the fun. Maybe if they weren’t starving . . .

Sector 1 is known for physical strength. They are miners, spending all day with heavy equipment and hours of hard labor underground. The Union makes sure they are well fed and strong; where else will they get their precious diamonds and golden necklaces? The tributes from here are confident and play heavy defense. Some charge head-on into their opposing mutts. They don’t seem terrified, nervous. Don’t cry on stage. Don’t think about their sisters back home.

Sector 2 is the pride of the Union. The tattletales, Wynonna calls them. Tattletales, narcs, stuck up assholes, pointed squares . . . Police, weapons, nuclear warfare. Originally their neighbor in Sector 6, north to them, were responsible for nuclear tools. All facilities were shut down. The Union says they don’t use Sector 2’s sole facility, but Wynonna has her own thoughts against this. These tributes get to the stage in record time. They play heavy offense, defense second. Kill their opponent before their opponent can think. Probably why Sector 2 has the most victors out of anyone throughout history.

Sector 3 brings Waverly the first tribute she sees scared. A young girl, who looks barely 18. She wakes terrified, as Waverly did. Screams, when the first mutt goes after her. She looks around on stage, like she can’t believe this is happening. Like there’s somewhere for her to escape. She hails from electronics. Waverly remembers the tribute that electrocuted the remaining victors of his games, all at once. She wonders if this kid will have the guts to do the same. Would Waverly, if she was in that position? She’s 21 and barely feels she can do the deed. To kill another person is a cruelty in itself. Why must they all be punished for the actions of those before them, almost a century ago?

Two more tributes catch her eye. One is a threat. The other, she isn’t quite sure. The fishing, hydroelectricity, and lumber region, Sector 4. Two are from the lumberjack portion of the Sector, swinging axes like nothing against their opponents. The other two, from the sea. The male tribute attacks his opponents furiously, the way a Sector 2 might. He’s right on top of them. And he’s enjoying it. He enjoys the kill, the power of the weapon in his hand. Waverly notes him for later. Hardy James. 

His fellow sea dweller isn’t the same. Doesn’t get on stage with a huge grin and cheer for the public, waving arms victorious. She’s calm. She’s clearly freaked out by the whole thing, but she manages to take a step back and calculate. Plan. On stage she isn’t angry. Doesn’t brag. Isn’t even afraid. She’s neutral. She knows, just like Waverly, these games are far from easy. Aren’t for fools. They’re for people who are willing to play games back.

“Nicole Haught, your second Sector 4 female tribute!”

On her right arm, Waverly notices tattoos. Stretching from the beginning of her wrist, to the end of her forearm, just barely grazing her elbow. It looks like the images are—

“My, my, what a fine lookin’ crowd this year.” Doc whistles to himself, sitting back on his couch and downing whiskey like it’s the last night on earth. Not for him, anyway. “I mean, truly—”

“Shut your damn mouth, man.” It’s the first time Dolls talks, and the last time for today, when he gets up and leaves for his own room. Doc remarks him as rude. Waverly studies him next.

Dolls is going to be her first goal. Her first game to play. He’s been a mentor for 24 years. Watching tribute after tribute go to their deaths, failing as miserably as a starving Sector 5 would. Farming, livestock, textiles—picking fruit, herding animals, making shirts. None of it is especially useful in fighting to the death. Waverly has knowledge of herbs. Not as expansive as Willa, but enough to get by. She knows which plants to eat and which plants will gladly take her to the grave. She needs Dolls to participate. To focus, to stay in this realm. She needs to find a way to motivate him, before another one of his students is sent to her death.

She wakes up motivated. Today she’ll get to him. She’ll pull her inner Wynonna saleswoman charm and get him to participate, no matter how many years and years of this punishment has shut him out. Dolls is her ticket home. She needs to be pushy.

He’s quiet at breakfast, picking at his food in the same way as before. Alex is the same. But Alex isn’t her concern. She doesn’t waste any time. She comes right out and asks.

“So, what’s our first lesson?”

He gives her the pleasure of looking at her, before looking down again at the eggs in his plate. Piled high and cold. The portion stabbed onto his fork spins in circles as he twirls the fork repeatedly. Bored. Dolls is bored. Waverly is in the fight for her life, and he sits here, bored. Drinking his water and playing with his fork. When he reaches for the pitcher between him, on the left, Waverly takes a knife and stabs the table just before his reach. She hears Doc laugh somewhere in the background.

“Don’t think me missing was luck,” Waverly says for good measure.

Dolls  _ smiles. _

Here, she sees it. At first, in the way he removes his slouch. Then, in the way his eyes widen. He’s figured it out. Waverly is different. Waverly is nothing like the 24 years before. She has Wynonna to get back to, and she’s not letting anyone, including him, get in her way.

Waverly Earp is a fighter, and he’s beginning to take this knowledge in.

The train stops, and Dolls stands to his feet. “Strategy, later.” Then he’s off.

His energy is completely different, and Waverly feels her shoulders relax.

-

Waverly feels her shoulders tense.

Waverly could go on and on about how terrible the idea of the Remake Center is. Sending tributes here to be made into something presentable. Union artists poking and staring at them, mumbling about how dirt ugly they are. Shaming them when they don’t fit into clothes quite right. Waxing hair off tributes until their skin is red with anger. New haircuts. New outfits. New personality while they’re at it—why not?

She’s left alone in shorts and an undershirt when her official stylist enters. He’s certainly, blissfully, quieter than his assistants. Doesn’t say a thing about Waverly, no matter how low he might look down on her with his Union eyes. Hell, he even smiles and greets her.

“They made you quite an interesting file,” he says, waving the physical copy in his hand. “I’ve been excited to meet you. Even now I feel it. Your energy is far different from tributes past.”

He’s similar to Doc. Doesn’t talk in the annoying high pitched voices the Union citizens use, doesn’t use “darling” eighty times in one sentence. Doesn’t act super hyper about the games and the fact Waverly will be killing people very shortly. Something about him is grounding, and calming. He’s present in this moment, and he pulls Waverly in with him.

“I am Ambrose Dickenson, but people call me Fish. I was the Sector 4 stylist for years before I swapped out. Wanted a new challenge.”

“Nothing more challenging than making everyone’s least favorite Sector look cool,” Waverly says dryly, but Fish laughs heartily. Most likely out of pity.

“It was the Sector 4s who were a challenge. Spoiled, they were. There’s something about people from your plains that stands out. Something different. Disciplined.”

“It’s the starvation,” Waverly says, and again he laughs.

“That’s a fair possibility. Let’s get started. I have some ideas for the Opening Ceremonies.”

The amount of information the Union gathered on Waverly to present as a show to their people makes her sick. But grateful, because they somehow didn’t find out about the woods. The illegal hunting. That never looks too good on a public profile.

They used to call her an angel, around the farmer’s market. It’s what Mama used to call her, when she was trading supplies for home.  _ My little Waverly, my little angel . . . _ It popped up more frequently after Mama disappeared. Wynonna would say it, too. Wynonna used to say Waverly perfected her aim so as to shorten the suffering of her kills, because she was an angel. Really, it was because Waverly just had a natural gift for it. She supposes perspective is everything. The profiles built on her by others are everything.

She expects Fish’s pitch to be something stupidly obvious to the farm and livestock Sector. Cowboy outfit with a hat as long and tall as Doc’s. Overalls and a straw hat. Cow costume. Instead, he creates something new. Combining the personalities of her and her fellow tribute the best he can. An angel, and a baker. The barn fire everyone surely knows about, the one that took Ward Earp and supposedly Michelle Gibson with it. The bright white colors of the Union, of purity and unity.

When he pitches the idea, she feels like she’s on some type of inside job. A mission, to embarrass those who would look down on her home. She wonders if Fish feels it, too, the same hope she saw in Dolls’s eyes this morning. The same belief, that maybe, for the first time in decades, Panem will be looking at a Sector 5 victor.

-

She waits at the chariots outside for her associate. All the tributes will gather in their respective chariots, two per Sector, and ride down the Capital City to the president’s mansion. Everyone dresses in something representing both their home and their personality. Waverly knows this is more showmanship. More begging for sponsors for the games, to buy and send them supplies. To get people to bet on them. To get people to cheer them on home. She should start thinking about this angle, but she can’t. Another tribute gets her attention.

It’s the Sector 4 girl again, the tall one with the red hair. The neutral one, showing some vulnerability as she strokes the horse pulling her chariot. A blue jumpsuit that grows lighter the higher the fabric reaches. By the time it reaches her torso, it breaks off into a blue and white wavy pattern. Fake gills for the swimmers of her hometown. The other boy from her town wears the same. The other two tributes wear something a little different, to better represent their region, with the same blue patterns. The other tributes have the same types of characteristics about their outfits; everything by region. They’re supposed to be together, and yet they remain separate. How ironic.

Her attention falls back on the neutral girl. Nicole Haught. Nicole Haught suddenly stops stroking the horse and steals a sugar cube from the animal. Grinning wide, at her crime.

She makes direct eye contact with Waverly and winks before getting on the chariot.

Yes, because stealing from horses is the hottest thing in the world.

A similar white costume joins Waverly, and she pulls her eyes away from the thief. Alex looks the same, despite all the changes they’ve made. Same weak knees, same shaking hands, same sorrowful eyes. She can’t let this happen. This is the big shot. This is the show, and she must entertain if she wants to survive. She cannot be pulled down by someone else, if she ever wants to see her sister again. There isn’t much time, either. Wynonna would tell her to act, now.

She looks at Alex as he fidgets with his outfit’s sleeves. She takes a page from the angel book and stretches a hand out to him. “Together.”

She is lending him her strength, and he isn’t hesitant to grasp for it. Alex knows he needs this, needs someone to guide him. Protect him. He needs his own Wynonna. She isn’t sure how long she can hold this role for him, or how long she even should, but for now she’ll give him all the strength she has.

The button waits on her wrist. Fish told her to press it when the time was right, and Alex’s stylist told him to follow Waverly’s lead. Waverly’s strength. She wishes she’d picked up a book on how to please a crowd. How to win over hundreds so she might live through a death match and return home safe like nothing happened. 

She doesn’t press it too early, and certainly not too late. She lets the crowd digest the rest of the tributes. Study them, until they take it all in and get bored. Then she presses the button, and Alex follows.

Wings erupt from a secret flap on their backs, turning them into fictional creatures for the public to stare into. And once they’re comfortable, once they think they’ve seen everything, the entire costume lights on fire. It should kill them. It should burn them to nothing, as the barn, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t, and they’re completely safe, because Fish is a genius who laughs at any challenge in his path. Fish is the first and only Union citizen Waverly thinks she’ll ever trust.

They play the Union’s favorite gaslighting imagery of unity, holding hands and standing as one, costumed the same, and the crowd cheers for it. The crowd  _ loves _ it, and it makes Waverly want to laugh. She throws caution to the wind and goes ahead and laughs. She laughs and smiles and waves, pretending to be the perfect public figure they voted for, and they adore it. They call her name like they know her. They cheer. She can practically hear Wynonna’s eyes rolling from here. 

Alex joins her, and for a moment in time he seems hopeful. He gathers all the strength she lends him, and he stands taller, more solid, more confident. Then the chariots stop. Everyone stops in front of the president’s home, and he takes in the sight. All the tributes, in one place. The entire competition, staring back at him.

He lets go of Waverly’s hand, and lets her keep her strength to herself.

Yet again, no time to think about it. No time to examine him. President Clootie emerges from his home, his arms extended out to the people. The people who sap his false images of strength and believe everything he preaches will keep them alive, in the long run. They believe they are all together, all standing unified. If they were all even, there would be a lot more than 20 tributes every year.

Good grief, she sounds like Wynonna.

The ultimate in Union bad hat fashion emerges from a huge mansion, a castle in its own right. Towering over them above, the chariots waiting to descend further below and continue into the Training Center. Waverly’s seen President Clootie on TV, but something about seeing him in person is unsettling. His hat attempts to hide the snake-like grin on his face, but it does a terrible job. He’s thin, in a way no king should ever present himself. Almost sickly. The red rose sticking out from his white suit makes something about him further unsettling, intimidating her. The white rose next to it proves how pale and sickly he looks, like he’ll topple over any moment.

His grin is even worse. Evil—he flat out looks evil.

He greets his public and welcomes them to yet another exciting year of watching young adults kill each other for sport. A child stands next to him, wearing a suit as blood red as the rose Clootie wears, holding out a box. The president grabs a sealed letter with the number 99 on it. Ever since the 50th games, modifiers were added to promise unique games every year. The first is announced, right here. The second, at a random point in the games. Usually after less than half are left.

This year’s first modifier is mutts. The arena will have significantly more mutts this year than any year before. Waverly should be nervous. She should think of the bats she fought in the catacombs, but she can’t help but feel hope. She’s a hunter, and they’re giving her animals. Though she supposes she was already given a different kind of animal to hunt to begin with.

Then he flips the letter over and reveals the number of training days to be allotted before the games. This year, the tributes will have two days to train before the games start. Two days to learn life saving skills. Two days to make alliances. Two days to turn themselves into cold killers, to find the will to kill people just like them. Waverly thinks of Hardy James, and how he laughed as he swung his weapon.

There’s the final speech before they’re sent into the Training Center. Their mentors and escorts—their babysitters, really—wait here for them before going up to their floors. Dolls and Doc express their pleasantries, their satisfaction with the costumes and the way the crowd was loving them. But Waverly doesn’t pay them attention. She looks at the elevators, and catches Nicole Haught in her sights again.

Before the doors close, Nicole winks at her again.

-

Alex doesn’t participate in the endless strategy pitches, and Waverly has to remind herself she can’t care. If he doesn’t want to fight for his life, it isn’t up to her to boost his confidence. As much as she wants to help. As good as it felt, lending him her strength. Giving him some hope. Eventually he just gets up and leaves for his room. Wynonna is more important, so she lets him go.

“I know swords aren’t your specialty. No one from a Sector 5 farm would know what to do with one,” Dolls says. By now it’s just them. Doc watches games announcements in another part of this giant penthouse. The Avoxes stand in corners and pretend not to exist until they are summoned. “Are you good with lassos?”

“No, Wynonna did all the horse breaking. But we—I—” Should she tell him about the woods? Is the Union listening, right now? What if she spills it and—

“Let me help you, Waverly. Doc and I will be with sponsors during the games. Let me know what I can do for you.”

She hesitates, but she agrees to take the gamble. “Wynonna and I used to slip away to the woods. You know that electrified fence on the outskirts of Purgatory?”

“The one that’s never electrified?” Dolls shrugs, like he knows the place. Like he’s been there before. “I might have heard of it.”

“Bows. Hunting. Knives, I’m pretty decent with.”

“Are you a good shot?”

“I’m the best shot in these games.” She’ll prove it right now, if she has to.

“That’s a lot of confidence,” Dolls says. “Keep those all a secret until that gong goes off. Use your bow with the judges, but don’t let the other tributes know. It’s a heads up for them—keep the advantage. Don’t reveal anything that anyone can use to take advantage of you. You have two days, and they have instructors down there. Learn new skills. Brush up on ones you might not be as good at.”

“What about alliances? What if it’s the only way to get someone on my side?” A temporary Wynonna, until it’s just them standing.

“If you can help it, don’t let anyone stand by you. Not unless it’s someone you think you can outsmart, or run away from. Alliances always end in blood, Waverly. At the end of the day, everyone wants to go home. Remember to play smart. And remember everyone else here is doing the same. Even the dumbest person on the field has a plan. I want you to identify the biggest challenger in the games, and I want you to stay away from them.”

This statement makes Waverly study harder. They rewatch the Opening Ceremonies, and the reaping. Hardy James will be the biggest challenge. He enjoys this, which means he’s very good at this. He’s a stark contrast from the other tributes in his Sector. 

The other tributes. Nicole Haught, who has winked at her twice. Stole from a horse. Got the crowd to chant her name without the use of special effects flames, just with the charm she walked in with.

Waverly watches her reaping with more detail. Nicole wakes in a small pool. She panics for exactly one minute before she collects herself and gets up. Grabs the trident waiting for her, and stares at the stage across the room. She doesn’t run for it, not at first. She waits. She waits for something to happen, to try and counter whatever trap waits for her. 

The first step into the water beneath the platform she wakes is cautious. She’s on her toes until the first mutt leaps for her. She stops to kill two before clearing herself a path and running, quickly despite the effort of wading through water stopping at her waist. She’s quick on the draw; she waits for the attackers to leap at her before striking them down, not straying too far from her path. She’s as calm in the fight as she is when she woke up, and as she is when she stops on the stage. Where Hardy cheers, she’s quiet.

They watch it all over again, and Waverly studies Nicole even harder than Hardy James. Where Hardy is loud, aggressive, and bold, Nicole is something different. Quiet. Calculating. 

Everyone here has a plan.

_ I want you to identify the biggest challenger in the games, and I want you to stay away from them. _

It isn’t Hardy James who will be left in the games; the last challenger for Waverly to face; the biggest threat she’ll need to run away from.

It’s Nicole Haught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fish girl Nicole **swoons**
> 
> Next time, we’ll see Waverly as she makes it through the two-day training period. I’m sure Nicole Haught won’t bother her at all, no, no…
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. This story really flowed with me and I’m happy to finally get the chance to share it. It's a little closer to the source than any of my AUs have ever been, but I'm still pleased with the way it came out.


	3. Chapter 3

These are the only solid rules in the games. No sparring with other tributes. No touching other tributes. Don’t even look at each other for too long.

Don’t spoil the Union’s toys before they can be played with.

The training gym is underneath the ground floor of the Training Center. Underneath here, a hospital. Sometimes rules don’t pan out, Waverly guesses. 

She pretends to listen with the other tributes, scanning the room before she can officially meet it. Dozens of experts stand at dozens of training stations, including someone in heavy combat gear. Ready for whatever crazy tributes like Hardy James is willing to throw at them. 

Waverly catches Nicole doing the same. Studying. Taking it all in. Nicole catches her nosy gaze once again and nods at her, grinning and doing her stupid wink. Waverly scoffs. This is her competition? A flirty swimmer with big strong arms that bulge out of her sleeves? Someone with reflective brown eyes that catch the light just right? And did she mention fit as hell? Cutest dimple popping out of her grin Waverly has ever seen?

Oh, crap, she’s in Waverly’s head.

She sticks to the plan and avoids the flirtatious killer from the sea, going to the first station she can locate across the room. Nicole goes right for a trident, tagging along with Champ. Like the popular kids in high school, they gather with all the other well-off tributes, the military kids and the miners from Sectors 1 and 2. Most of them get along, which presents another potential problem: a giant gang war, in the arena. All of the strong kids, working together. If they work against one another, all Waverly has to do then is sit around. Just run away, and she’ll be okay. She keeps watching them. Keeps studying them. These are the people she needs to know. Nicole Haught and the popular crowd.

They all do the opposite of what Dolls told her to do, and it makes her nervous. Every single one of them, showing off their skills in front of the competition. They’re not scared. They’re confident. They know they’re the winners, the real show of the games. The real pull, the entertainment. Sectors 3 and 5 are here to be the fodder. For example: half the tributes from Waverly’s home didn’t even make it past the easy part. 

All the Sector 3 kids huddle near every survival station they can get to. Most of them are extremely young. Engineers, robotics experts, computer scientists—they weren’t raised to survive in the wild. Probably why they’re delivered less food than anyone else, despite the fact they build any and all transport systems bringing the food in the first place. If Waverly has to build an alliance, she’ll pick out a Sector 3 first. Easier to convince, easier to get away from when things hit the bloodshed phase. Alex has certainly figured that part out.

The stars of the show, a group often referred to as the Careers, are doing everything physical they possibly can, grunting and flexing their muscles. A rather large 20 year old from Sector 1 spends all his time at a weight set. He’s praying on brute strength. Waverly can play speed against him, if need be. Another Sector 2 male throws knives of all sizes at the range, landing perfectly on the bull’s eye every time and cheering. Waverly wishes she can upstage him with a bow. At least, for now she’ll wait. 

Hardy spars hand-to-hand with one of the trainers, until moving on to using wooden swords. He downs the man twice his size and twice his age and laughs victoriously, before demanding he get up and go for round two. She doesn’t understand. He’s good in this field. The others are already intimidated by him. Why put on the show? 

She doesn’t understand until she watches Nicole from the weight sets, pretending she actually cares about big arms right now. Big as Nicole’s . . .

Nicole strikes her as different. Yet, Nicole is doing the same as everyone else. She brags about how she used to help the fishermen back home haul huge nets of the day’s catch onboard boats. Holding down bigger fish until they drowned on air. Making a display; grabbing a 50 pound medicine ball and throwing it down the range, throwing a trident perfectly on target with either hand, sparring with the trainer. She’s loud and obnoxious like the rest of them. Bragging. The opposite of what Waverly’s seen so far. Suddenly the neutral girl is on the same frequency as Hardy James. Then she pats someone on the back and laughs at their poor taste of jokes, and Waverly gets it.

Wynonna does it every day. Marketing. Nicole is making connections. Nicole is going to play the competition right from inside the alliance, because she’s strong enough to face whatever happens when the alliance breaks. 

Nicole is planning, just as she was from the beginning.

-

Waverly takes an edible plants test to prove to herself she has nothing to worry about in the field. She won’t give Willa the satisfaction of being poor with the knowledge Willa is so advanced at. 

The screen is rather large, open for anyone who wants to watch. That’s what these games are, anyway. A show. Thankfully she saves herself double embarrassment and passes with ease. She finds Nicole stopped in the gym, staring at  _ her _ now. Waverly flashes her own stupid wink and Nicole laughs, before moving on to the next thing.

She travels further into the gym and finds Alex once again, showing off to his new friends from Sector 3, at the camouflage station. He’s a baker, Waverly recalls. She sneaks by and watches as he paints his arm perfectly to look like a tree branch. Completely from memory. Completely undetectable, were they in the forest. His friends are amazed, nudging each other impatiently as he continues his little show. He looks up for a moment, long enough to catch Waverly and smile at her.

Then, before she knows it, she’s jumping out of her boots. She’s staring at Nicole again, who appears from practically nowhere and takes a seat next to her. No wink, no smile. All serious. It’s the stage at the reaping all over again, and Waverly wonders what threat or preposition she’s about to get. Then, at the last second, her annoying flirting is back with a stupid smirk.

“You have a habit of staring,” she says.

“Apparently you do, too,” Waverly shoots back defensively.

“Nothing wrong with getting to know the competition. I don’t think we’ve formally met yet. I’m Nicole. Nicole Haught.”

Her outstretched hand looks welcoming, like it’s something Waverly can take and never have to worry about. The thought is exactly what makes her suspicious. She grabs the hand anyway, to humor Nicole Haught, and finds a strong grip. She toughens her own in response.

“And you are Waverly Earp,” Nicole continues, pulling her hand back and leaning on the same arm. “The girl on fire. You’re a popular girl around here.”

“Is that why everyone’s busting my door down for a team up?” Waverly asks sarcastically. Not that she’d say yes to anyone’s offer. Not even Alex, from her own home.

“Something tells me you don’t care for a team up,” Nicole says, and Waverly suddenly feels defensive. While she was watching Nicole, Nicole has been observing her. Planning.

Waverly leans closer to Nicole, right in her face. Unfortunately, she smells amazing. “I don’t much care for flirting, either.”

Nicole takes the challenge. She grins wider, tilting her head upward. In Waverly’s face, now. “Who says I was flirting? Maybe it’s a Sector 4 greeting. Maybe I have a tic with my eye.” She winks again, just to make Waverly mad.

This is useless. All she’s doing is wasting Waverly’s time. She’s getting to know the competition, and Waverly’s giving her a whole case study right now. Waverly scoffs and walks away for the next station.

“Champ Hardy says you’ll be the first one to die.”

Waverly stops. Cringes at the fact the guy actually calls himself “Champ”. Then she turns around to play whatever game Nicole is trying to play. Only for the sake at beating her at her own game. Nicole speaks again before she can say anything, and takes round one.

“Personally, I’d hate to hear the cannon shoot for you. I don’t think you’d look too good in the sky, either. Or would you,  _ angel _ ?” 

She gets up now, ready to move on. She takes two or three steps before stopping, closer to Waverly. 

“Personally, I think you’re too stubborn to die.”

Nicole begins to walk off, but stops again when a commotion breaks out across the gym. Stealing both their attention. Champ and the Sector 2 boy who was throwing knives argue. Champ’s mad because, supposedly, the other tribute took something that was his. The trainers try to break them up as Champ yells in the neutral tribute’s face. 

All of a sudden, Waverly sees Nicole is laughing. She steps closer. Maybe Nicole will whisper all her plans and give Waverly an easy way out. Maybe she just likes Nicole’s laugh, who knows.

She is noticed, and Nicole nudges her. Pointing, at a climbing station. It starts as a rock wall before turning into a complicated mess of rope, strung far up above. The Sector 3 girl, the really young one, is up here, laughing. Holding the knife Champ is arguing about.

Something odd shifts when Nicole asks, “How old is she?” Waverly notes the amusement from the scene is gone on her face, replaced now by a frown.

“Um, 18? I think?”

“She’s a kid,” Nicole says sadly. She looks at Champ and the tribute he argues with for a long while, before silently walking off.

-

The lunch break is an ugly reminder of high school; the cool kids sit together, and the lame kids sit together. Waverly is neither, so she sits alone. The Sector 3 girl does as well, but Waverly doesn’t make the effort. What’s the point in making friends now?

And what, she wonders, is Nicole’s deal with this young tribute? She’s never heard of Careers taking pity on anyone.

But since when is Nicole like any other tribute?

She watches her spar again, later. Watches Nicole keep up the act all day. Wonders why the hell she would go out of her way to tell Waverly about Champ. And also why the hell she would agree to use such a stupid nickname like “Champ”.

It wasn’t a real warning. Nicole needed an excuse. She’s been watching Waverly, too, and Waverly wonders if Nicole sees through her ruse. Her efforts to pretend she can’t stand up for herself, can’t survive. Nicole is trying to figure her out, the way she’s trying to figure out Nicole. What a lively rivalry they’ve created. 

The sparring coach gets a workout. Champ Hardy has an apparent agenda against him, going round after round after round. She notes the similarities between the two Sector 4s she’s watching. Champ spends every moment of the fight, completely on top of his opponent. He’ll exhaust himself if he doesn’t take out his opponent fast enough. All she’ll have to do with Champ, if anything, is stay out of his way until he’s tired. 

Where they are similar, they are different. Here, Waverly understands what a true fighting style is: a reflection of self. If she were more of a hand-to-hand type, she imagines she’d be on heavy defense. Patiently waiting for her opponent to mess up to strike. She would hang back at a distance, dodging bigger opponents. It’s the same way she shoots.

In this second session, with a far closer eye than before, Waverly sees it. She sees Nicole’s true nature. Cunning; Nicole is a sly opponent. She manages to be big and fast at the same time, and uses her size to the fullest potential. Intimidation. Heavy defense. 

Her sparring partner is bigger than her, and she knows it. Nicole starts the fight with the first swing of the wooden trident, but she doesn’t brute strength everything the way Champ does. She stirs the pot and throws her enemy on the defensive; she warns them she isn’t here to play—this is a fight. She makes her enemy cautious. When they lunge, she steps out of the way at the last second and deals a single blow. 

She can continue, can take this as far as she can until the trainer’s defense comes back, but she doesn’t. She tests the waters. She makes her opponent more cautious, circling him in an unknowing dance. She uses his strength against him when he strikes again, throwing him off balance and striking him more than before. She doesn’t finish it. She waits. 

More circling. Then finally, the moment he begins to move to strike, she counters the incoming attack before it can form. Hitting him all over the place, switching between both trident and bare fists. Switching so often, he can’t block her flurry of attacks until he’s downed. She’s calculated against him, played him until he gave her a careless win by dropping his defense and upping his frustration. Only difference is, she helps him off the ground instead of cheering.

They go for round two. Waverly notices a shark tooth necklace swing out from where it was tucked under her shirt. Maybe her best friend back home is a shark, who knows. Wynonna once said Willa’s best friend was their horse.

In the corner, Waverly notices the young girl from before. Watching. Observing everyone the same way both Waverly and Nicole are doing, but in a fashion more frightened. Champ’s fights scare the life out of her. But Nicole keeps her enticed, keeps her watching. Waverly wonders what the chances are of a Career and a lowly Sector 3 alliance would be.

-

Alex doesn’t tell Dolls anything, like he doesn’t trust the man as a mentor. Dolls doesn’t care. He goes straight to Waverly and has her give him the full field report. He gives her the gift of a new journal, and she gets to work.

Champ Hardy from Sector 4. Jack and his knives, hailing from 2. Nicole Haught and her winking, from Sector 4. These are the big threats Waverly lists. She knows their skills, and she knows their weapons and fighting styles now. She spent the entire day watching and pretending to be productive at the fire starting station. As if she’s never started a fire in her life.

Dolls has nothing to say about Nicole taking the time to warn her. He thinks the same Waverly does: it was obviously part of a bigger scheme, one they don’t have time to decipher. Tomorrow is the last day to train, before Waverly must present her skills before the Gamemakers to be ranked. Ranks will bring sponsors. Sponsors might just save her damn life in the arena. Dolls makes sure to repeat this detail twice.

He warns her to stay away from Nicole Haught, and the 18-year-old Rachel Valdez just to be safe.

She immediately does the opposite.

Waverly sits through a dull basic survival course, with a hunting focus, for the sake of making those watching her think she can’t spend a night in the forest. In reality, she’s spent several. Sometimes she and Wynonna talked about packing up and spending an eternity out in those woods. 

There is one amusing thing about this class: Nicole doesn’t follow any of it. The towering, plotting, scheming, attractive, stupidly winking tribute cannot follow a damn word the instructor says. A test is given with hologram animals in a closed room, and she fails it miserably. Waverly eventually leaves, and Nicole retakes the short course. 

Waverly watches from the fish hooks station as Nicole grows increasingly frustrated. Careers are too soft for these games, she thinks. After a long while of effort, Nicole gives up and goes to the knot tying station to let out some frustration. A fisherwoman like her has been making hooks and nets all her life—it’s therapeutic. She’s calm in minutes.

Something overtakes Waverly and forces her to walk over to the station. It’s her turn to cause trouble, and, frankly, she’s giddy about the concept. Apparently Nicole senses what’s coming and frowns. Not so fun when she’s not the one winking.

“Never thought I’d see a Career struggle with anything regarding the games,” Waverly says. She’s the one smirking, now. “I can tutor you, if you’d like.”

“Aren’t you a farmer?” Nicole asks. She genuinely seems stressed about her failure. “How did you get all that? I mean, all the tracking and the snares and—”

“I read a lot of books.” Waverly tries not to sound too defensive about it. Snares were more Wynonna’s strong suit, but she gets them. Tracking is certainly the easiest to her.

“Yeah, but—”

“Look, you walk too loudly on your heels. It’s the same as running; stay on the balls of your feet. I saw you yesterday. You’re a good runner. Apply the same thing.”

It isn’t until she walks away she realizes the mistake she’s made. She’s taught a Career to hunt. Specifically, the Career she sees the most as a threat. 

But Nicole looked so sad and pitiful. Genuinely, upset she failed. She’s worried about her survival, but she’s going to be in a huge alliance with people watching her back; if she can’t hunt, someone else can.

Unless she’s trying to go off on her own. Nicole doesn’t want to join the other Careers? 

Waverly scoffs. The more she learns about Nicole, the less she can decipher about what she might be plotting. It’s a reverse mystery, and if it weren’t so frustrating it might be a little amusing.

-

She watches Nicole take the test one more time before she gives up again and goes for a run. Alex and Rachel talk at the fish hooks station, but Alex doesn’t seem satisfied enough to try and recruit her. Rachel doesn’t look terribly devastated. Champ fights the poor soul responsible for the sparring, all the way until they break for another awkward lunch.

Waverly grabs something protein-based. In a sense, Champ is right. Bulking up is important. It’s not the  _ only _ important thing, but it's up there. 

She grabs an apple from the fruits laid out for the tributes, a giant buffet going from one wall to the next. She doesn’t realize it’s missing until she sits by herself again. Her eyes return to where she initially grabbed the apple. But there’s nothing, and she has no choice but to assume she dropped it and it rolled away. Then Nicole Haught walks by eating an apple and winking at her, and suddenly she decides she didn’t want to eat the stupid thing, anyway.

She spends the remainder of the day actually being productive. Going back to the fish hooks station. If they end up in a water-based climate with little forest, she’ll have no choice but to fish. Something tells her such a setting will be Nicole and Champ’s prime. She avoids the climbing course and the bows. Two of her favorite things. Fire starting station again, for kicks. 

Finally, she’ll end the day with a serious workout. Using the weight sets to their fullest potential, ignoring the annoying boasting from Careers who are clearly too bored with training and just want the games to start, already. One of them yells victoriously in some sort of lifting competition, and Waverly loses focus. The barbell she lifts meets her chest, and someone is rushing over before she can even try to push the stupid thing off.

It’s Nicole. Of course it is. She asks if Waverly is okay, and all Waverly can manage is a cough.

“Really should do that with a spotter,” she says. Waverly waves her off.

“I get it, you have big, big muscles.”

The stupid smirk comes back, and it makes Waverly ill. “So you’re lookin’ at my muscles, huh?”

Waverly rolls her eyes and gets up to escape the conversation. But Nicole is quick. She gets up from where she knelt on the floor to tease Waverly and circles around her, stepping in front of her and blocking her path. Waverly tries to turn a different direction, but Nicole is insistent.

“Wait. Meet me on the roof tonight,” she tells Waverly. “They don’t lock the stairs down.”

It’s a genuine question, as real as Nicole’s disappointment in herself when she failed that course. 

For a moment, Waverly actually feels compelled to humor her. Then she pieces together no one will be watching anyone on the roof, and she gains some sense. “I don’t know about that, Nicole. I’ll have to think about it.”

Nicole just shrugs. Apparently fine with the rejection. “It’s cool. I’ll be up there either way. Feel free to stop by, girl on fire.”

She walks off as they call the end of training day two. No smirk, no looking back to wink. Genuine question. Just them, on the roof. Waverly assumes she wants a hunting tutor, for real. Such a thing would be suicide, teaching a Career how to stand for herself.

Waverly returns to the fifth floor with no intention of meeting a Career anywhere for anything.

\- 

Waverly feels like a zombie. She walks around, directionless, staring at everything that moves, saying absolutely nothing. She doesn’t consider the feelings of the things or people she stares at. In fact, she stares at the Avox serving them dinner until the woman feels uncomfortable and walks away. Waverly knows her. She just can’t point where, but she  _ knows _ this woman.

There isn’t much time to think about it. The other Sector 5 tribute takes his share of food and runs to his room. Dolls pays him no attention. He doesn’t want to fight for his life, so Dolls will focus on the one who does. Waverly can appreciate that. 

They talk more in depth about what she’s observed. The tributes she’s watched and the skills they’ve shown her. She identifies Nicole and Champ as her biggest targets, and Dolls seems to agree, though he’s hesitant about Nicole. Waverly can see here, how he trusts her judgment. He wants them to work as a team, not a mentor telling the student what to do and how to think. It makes her feel more confident, like she might actually be making choices that will save her life.

And then the rep from the Union makes sure to take the moment from her. Doc expresses his excitement about the games. About how talented this year’s tributes are, Waverly included. His  _ excitement _ for the games. How entertaining it will all be.

It sets Dolls off. “Yes, that fun game where we all drink and toast the deaths of our youth, killing one another. We raise our kids to hate each other, so they can nominate themselves to kill someone else they’ve never met. We choose which kids we want to see die.” 

Dolls stands from his seat, slamming the fork in his hand back onto the table. 

“Prime time entertainment, really. What a good show, Holliday. We force young people to kill each other, let’s have a drink!” He gets in the man’s face before leaving, snarling into Doc’s mustache, “Why don’t you shut up, you fucking monster?”

Waverly learns something, here. Another observation, one that’s harder for her to make. Doc feels bad. Either because he got yelled at or maybe, deep down, Sector 5 managed to get the one escort who actually cares about things not for the Union’s fun.

She wants to laugh—she’s reading way too far into it. But dinner isn’t done yet and she’s not ready to stop eating. Neither is Doc. Despite her growing up with Willa, or perhaps because she grew up with Willa, she’s never been a fan of awkward meals. Meals are meant to be savored, enjoyed, preserved. Because meals are rare, and now she fears these will be the last foods of her life. She’s even tried the alcohol her father was so obsessed with. (Wasn’t impressed.)

“A tough room,” Doc says first, apparently hating the awkwardness the same. “I did not realize the sensitivities of victors past. My mistake.”

Fuck being nice, Doc is an asshole. “Have you considered what it’s like to be taken from your home and thrown into a death match, Mr. Holliday?” Waverly asks. He pretends not to care, but she sees the way he hesitates when picking at his food. “Believe me when I tell you it isn’t fun.”

“Have you considered, Ms. Earp, those who were plucked, deserve the cards they have been drawn?”

Now she’s  _ really _ mad. “I deserve death? Have you considered you don’t even know me?”

“I do not. But your community has judged you fit.”

“You don’t know jack shit about my community.” 

She doesn’t want to stop. She wants to keep going until she wins this. Whatever it is Doc has created here, she wants to win it. 

“My oldest sister uses herbs she picks herself to heal sick people. People who are starving, while you sit here with your friends and stuff your face all day. People the Union ignores, because they’re too small,  _ despite _ the fact we’re the ones who provide what you overlook. Wynonna works extra shifts at the farmlands to make sure we all eat. She works herself to death, and some nights we still can’t eat. Some nights we can’t eat, and Wynonna still gives her food away to starving children she sees at the market. She makes sure I have books to read and warm clothes in the winter. She—”

Doc’s laughter not only shuts her up, but it fills her with rage. “That is very lovely for your sisters, Waverly Earp, but it does not tell me why you should not be here. Why you claim you do not deserve this.” 

She plays his game further. “They call me the angel, in the market place. I—”

“That is very touchin’.”

It would be so easy to flip the table over and leave Doc to flail around like a dead fish, but she doesn’t. He clearly wants her to get angry, so she does not. “I climbed up high. High, high into the trees in the forests that overlapped with Sector 4’s territory. Some trees had fruit. I went higher than anyone else, and I picked far more than anyone else. I used to send kids home with the apples I picked. Wynonna gives food away, because I tell her to. I run home, across acres and acres of fields, to get Willa when someone is hurt. I stay out at night and pick the herbs she needs. Why would I—”

“A supplier of good faith.” Doc smiles, and Waverly feels no comfort by the sight. “Your family barn burns down and takes half the property with it, and you spend your free time giving away the things you complain you need. How very, very heroic. You are true victor material.”

“Why did we get stuck with you as an escort?” Waverly asks. Doc’s smile immediately morphs into a frown.

“I meant that. But if you must know, the heartless elitists you believe us to be, the previous escort was caught tryin’ to escape. She did not want to spend another year watching the youth from this Sector go to their deaths. In fact, it was my understandin’ she actually liked half of those who were sent here.”

“What happened to her?” She forgets her rage for a moment. For the Union to take one of their own and treat them this way, for quitting a job? The old escort challenged the Union’s power, and the Union made her disappear. The same way they have the power to make these games, year after year, without anyone fighting back or making them so much as stumble in their step.

Doc’s eyes trail somewhere in the room. Doc doesn’t look away when he talks, he looks right into the subject’s eyes. Waverly knows this because a moment ago it was making her wild with anger. She follows him across the room.

To the Avox she thought familiar.

“Perhaps I have said enough for this evenin’,” Doc says, abandoning the rest of his meal and rising to his feet. “Goodnight, Ms. Earp.” He tips the front of his ridiculous, bright blue hat with his pointer finger. “It was a pleasure to speak with you.”

She doesn’t respond. She, too, abandons her precious meal and runs to her room, far, far away from the Avox who was meant to be her escort this year. Away from the one Union woman who actually looked at the tributes before her and saw people, not pawns. Not pieces of the games, or mythical warriors to fight for the glory of unity, and whatever gaslighting propaganda the Union could spit out over the years. She actually cared, and she was punished for it.

Waverly feels sick to her stomach.

She wants to go back to the president’s mansion and yell in his stupid snake face. Tell the former escort she’s sorry for all the things she’s said over the years, every time the woman was on screen. All the horrible thoughts she’s had, calling her another Union drone. She wants to run into Dolls’s room and tell him how much she doesn’t want to be here, that no amount of time in the world can possibly prepare her for this. She wants to beg and cry and tell him she doesn’t want to be another tribute he watches die, or another one the former escort watches. She certainly doesn’t understand why Doc would even use her and “victor” in the same sentence. She wants to tell Dolls she knows she’s smarter and faster than everyone else, but she knows, deep down, she can’t do this. She cannot win the Hunger Games, not in a million years. Hell, she wants to burst into Alex’s room and rant to him all evening, to tell him how unfair all this is and how she’s confused and hurt someone from her own hometown, someone amongst the crowd that called her an angel every time she passed, would nominate her to fight to the death for the entertainment of the people.

Waverly feels overwhelmed, like she’s choking on the air—the only safe thing she has left—and she’ll never catch her breath. She needs someone. She needs to feel like she’s not alone.

Damn it, she needs her sister.

When she finally drags her zombie feet into the room she will call her own for one more day, she feels a sense of calm. The loneliness of the room doesn’t bring her dread. She remembers where she found the pin from her sister, which waits for her on the dresser by the door, and she feels Wynonna’s presence. She can feel her strength.

Then something else catches her eye and all things stop entirely; the frustration, the anxiety, the sense of dread. Waverly sees it, and she actually laughs. It’s almost time for the 99 th Hunger Games, and she finds herself  _ laughing. _

Somehow Nicole Haught managed to sneak in here, onto the floor dedicated to a Sector not her own, likely while they were all at dinner, and left Waverly a present.

On the bed, Nicole Haught has left enough apples to form the shape of a trident. An apple, something she stole from Waverly at lunch, now in the shape of a calling card. Waverly wonders if she’s still on the roof. 

Waverly just needs one person to talk to. One person to rant to, the same way Wynonna does for hours in the woods. And now Waverly understands why. She finally, truly understands why.

Nicole might be trying to kill her. Hell, maybe she’ll eliminate her right there on the roof. Nicole is trying to get to know her, for the sake of the games. They will not be friends. They will not retire after the games and share a meal or a laugh. This ends with one of them being dead in the pavement, their face in the sky for all of Panem to pretend to honor.

But Waverly can feel herself slipping. She can feel the games getting to her, and her own nerves are freaking her out. Just a minute is all she needs. She takes one of the apples and retreats to the roof.

-

Nicole catches the apple when Waverly tosses it, despite the fact she was looking in another direction. Promptly, she takes a bite out of it, as if to prove she didn’t poison it, and smiles from where she sits on the roof. Her legs dangle over the edge of the building, like they might’ve on a boat back home. Waverly wonders if she misses it the way Waverly misses the woods.

“You’re here,” Nicole says. “I didn’t think you trusted me like that.”

Not a bad observation. Still, Waverly thinks Nicole is better company than sitting on her own, alone in the room, soaking in her thoughts. “I wanted to find out how you snuck onto our floor, into my room, and then back out without any trouble.”

“I’m a Career, Waverly. They let us do anything.” Nicole laughs, proving her statement false. “Maybe I’m just very good at sneaking in and out of places.”

“Then why haven’t you snuck out of  _ this _ place?” Waverly gestures around. A part of her hopes Nicole invited her up here to do such a thing.

“I’ve tried. I’ve thought about it, too, but I got nothin’,” Nicole says sadly. 

She takes the rest of the apple in her hand—an  _ entire _ , whole apple—and throws it over the roof. Some kind of forcefield holds it in place, before putting it back onto the roof with them. 

“They keep us from all kinds of escapes.”

Waverly wonders if Nicole tried the easy way out. Jumping off the roof, a death never televised—no wonder the Union has this back up plan to keep the people from being robbed of entertainment. 

In truth, it makes Waverly feel slightly better. Though now she’s having doubts this Career, who would bother sneak into her room for an innocent prank, would think about throwing her off the roof or snapping her neck right here. She sits next to Nicole, dangling her legs over the edge as well. She sees the tensed slouching in Nicole’s shoulders go away.

Waverly wants to jump into it, to rant for hours about the things driving her mind crazy. But watching Nicole’s shoulders relax makes her feel like calming down, too, like she needs to trade her inner rage for something gentle. Something to match the oddly warm presence she’s finding herself in.

“So, what places have you escaped out of?” 

It’s a easy question, with a broad trade of answers. Still, she hopes it isn’t too far a venture. They only met yesterday, after all, and Waverly doubts Nicole sees her as her best friend. Though she supposes it’s on the table, the way Nicole’s worked to get her up here.

Nicole’s eyes are on the stars above. Citizens of the Union laugh and party and drink below in celebration of the games, but Waverly doesn’t let the sound ruin the mood she’s trying to create. She follows Nicole’s eyes and remembers all the astronomy books she’s read, identifying constellations to herself. 

After a moment, Nicole answers the question. “I used to run away from home a lot. My parents were—um, we lived by the ocean. Right by it, within walking distance. There was a hut I made myself, out of old nets and tree overgrowth from the forests surrounding my hometown. We were pretty close to the lumber yards. I would sneak past their room and climb down the staircase. Our stairs were too creaky to use; they’d give me away. Out there, in that hut, I used to fish at night. Eventually I attracted this old cat. He stole a fish from me, and I chased him off. But he kept coming back. I think we were friends. He might be mad at me right now, though.”

Nicole had her own woods back home. A fishing hut by the sea, under the safety of the moonlight. Waverly doubts she fished because she was hungry, but it’s certainly a possibility. She thinks back on all the times she and Wynonna wanted to throw caution to the wind and build their own home out in the middle of the woods. Carry their own weight, fend for themselves. But they couldn’t leave Willa behind. No way was Willa going to live in the middle of nowhere, either. Selfishly, Waverly wishes they just ditched her and went ahead and did it. She would’ve been home, with Wynonna. Away from all of this.

“But it’s not really your fault, is it?” Waverly feels herself getting angry again. 

Nicole just shrugs, like she’s already thought this over dozens of times. Or maybe she just doesn’t care the way Waverly does. “I don’t even need them to say it. I know who nominated me. There were plenty of people back home who didn’t like me. But I guess that goes for you, too, if you’re here. Who did you piss off, girl on fire?”

“I don’t know,” Waverly says honestly.

People liked the Earp sisters back home. In her hometown, people were either annoyed by Wynonna or frustrated by Willa. But none of them hated the Earp sisters. They always went to them for help. Willa, for medicine. Wynonna, for anything work related, often something no one else was brave enough to do alone. Any time a horse ran away, they called Wynonna first to calm the animals down. And Wynonna didn’t even like horses. And Waverly used to . . .

“I used to sing at the end of the day,” Waverly says again. “There were a few field songs we sang on long days, but I sang this one every night. High up in the trees, I used to sing to the mockingjays, and they’d take the message back to the rest of the workers. When you heard the birds sing, the day was done. My sisters—I thought everyone liked my sisters. Apparently not. Not me, anyway.”

“That’s what happens to people who make life bearable,” Nicole says, colder than her calmer nature this evening. “The Union takes them away and screws up everything they’ve ever smiled about.”

Waverly feels a Wynonna-style rant coming on.

“I mean, this is so—They make all the kids watch this. They raise them on hate. They tell every kid they should hate all the other Sectors, because the other Sectors won’t be their friends when they end up in the games. Not if,  _ when _ they end up in the games. They sell these things as a victory; a triumph; fame and fortune! And then they turn around and talk about how we’re all together and how important it is for Panem to stand together, as one nation. They say this right before separating us and having us kill one another while the crowd cheers and roots for Sector over Sector.”

Waverly doesn’t see Wynonna in Nicole. Right now, she sees Dolls. She sees the mentor she’s leaning on, learning from, counting on.

Can she count on Nicole?

“No wonder the Dark Days happened,” Nicole finishes. “And people in your Sector? They’re starving, aren’t they?”

There’s a brief moment Waverly considers telling her about the woods. About what she and Wynonna have to do to scrape by, and how doing such a thing is illegal. How food is so scarce in the food harvesting region, even the Peacekeepers buy food illegally to get by. Instead, she goes with the simple, “It’s terrible back home. Sometimes I sneak fruits I pick to kids before they go home. Apples, ironically.”

Under the stars, she sees the dimple in Nicole’s cheek pop. “But did they make art of it?”

“It wasn’t a bad trident.”

“What would you do if you were back home right now, and not here?” 

Nicole is changing the subject. She’s the first Career Waverly knows to not be excited about winning the games for the glory of her home and her nation. Waverly does her a favor and complies. Once again, she decides to be honest about it.

“I would be staying up late. There was a farmer’s market me and my sister used to go to. She would work extra and buy me books sometimes. Or the shop owner would lend me one for a bit. I’d be in bed reading right now, if I wasn’t here.”

Nicole looks at her, from what little light the moon and streets below give. “Tell me about your hometown.”

She’ll humor her this too, because it’s actually working. Waverly doesn’t care about Nicole’s angle in all this right now. She wants the relaxation of the conversation. 

“Purgatory was a huge town in our region. The towns in the textile region were much smaller, but with bigger populations. We called it the ‘Big City’, because of the way the town is built; small space, lots of homes. Purgatory is an open range, with grass in every direction. The prairie winds used to blow them gently every day. There weren’t much people back home—the cattle outnumbered us, actually—so everyone knew everyone. People used to think Wynonna was crazy for speaking up about the Union, but they still respected her. My other sister Willa used to help the sick.”

“What were the farmlands like?”

“They stretched for miles. All the farms were run by some sort of Union official. People who never got sick and never really worked, just overlooked everything and told everyone what to do. The prairies in Purgatory were bordered by the lumber yards in Sector 4. If you climbed the trees high enough, you could see the lumber workers in their territories. Some people grew food on their own property, too, but the government would always take half as a ‘tax’, they called it. Our parents used to have an entire farm, but a thunderstorm took the whole thing and burned half our land. Our aunt moved us off the destroyed land and closer to town, closer to the farms where we worked. Eventually she passed away and Willa took over the house.”

She decides to leave out the parts about people believing Michelle used the storm as cover to start a fire, and her father dying in said fire. And also the fact that was the last night she saw her mother, the fact her body was never found becoming a town rumor.

“It sounds really beautiful. Even the burned parts.”

“Girl on fire,” Waverly repeats. She sees Nicole make the connection and nod to herself. “What about Sector 4? I bet living by the ocean was nice.”

Nicole’s energy changes. Her shoulders return to the tense nature they held when Waverly first entered, and Nicole scoots herself back before standing up. “We should head back. Get some rest before the judges score us tomorrow.”

Waverly follows her, only because she’s unsure where else to go. “Yeah, sure.”

From feet away, Nicole smiles at her. It’s different from usual. There’s no flirt in it, no tease. It’s a real, genuine smile. “Thank you. I really needed tonight.”

She can’t let Nicole leave. Not yet. There’s still one more thing on her mind, which begins to run at the rapid pace it’s been running at since she woke up tied to that stake. Thankfully it throbs less with anger right now; Waverly really needed tonight, too. “You’re so strange, Nicole.”

She sees the dimple again as Nicole laughs awkwardly. “Thank you?”

“No, that’s not what I—I thought you were—”

“Another douchebag Career?”

“Yeah, that exactly. Sorry.”

Nicole shrugs. “People can be surprising.” She begins walking again, right for the roof access back down to her floor. “You’ve certainly surprised me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FISH GIRL NICOLE
> 
> Thank you for tuning in. Next time, we’ll follow Waverly as the pregame portion comes to a close.


	4. Chapter 4

Tributes won’t leave their floors until lunch. At lunch, they will perform a demonstration before the Gamemakers, who will score them on a scale from 1 – 10, the original number of Sectors before the Dark Days separated them by loyalty. 6 rebels who would work forever, and 4 who would go on to live in luxury. 5 now; Sector 6 was destroyed. 

These scores will show the crowd who to bet on and who to count on to be cannon fodder. Waverly isn’t nervous. She’s quite excited to shoot a bow, actually. There was a time, three years ago, she broke her wrist and spent the time learning to shoot with the opposite arm. Dolls says to demonstrate her ambidexterity, as well. Waverly’s just ready to wow them all.

Dolls is ready with advice, as always. “In reality, everyone has more than one skill. But they’re only interested in seeing one right now. You have ten minutes to go in there and shoot. Do three arrows with your right arm, and three with your left. Don’t hang around, either. Use the ten minutes if you need them, but generally they like shorter demos.”

“Union people don’t like to work, just party.” She’s heard Wynonna say this before. She used to roll her eyes and ask Wynonna why she even cared. Now it’s all she cares about.

This is the first time Dolls attempts to help Alex, and the first time Alex actually listens to him. He has decided on his camouflage skills, the skills he learned from years and years of icing cakes. Waverly notes she’ll have someone else in the field with her strategy, hiding until everything is over with. She wonders if everything worked out with the other Sector 3 tributes. There’s also the climber Nicole was eyeballing. What was her skill? How did she learn to climb at all?

What is Nicole going to demonstrate? She has a whole range. Trident throwing, combat, her strength, crafting fish hooks from nothing, tying knots. Again, Waverly feels small. All she has to offer is the ability to climb and shoot arrows.

Then again, it might be all she needs.

In the waiting room before the judges, she does what might be a final study of these people she’s meant to kill. Everyone, sitting in the same pale white and red jumpsuit. She sees Nicole’s long red hair contrasting against the white patterns on the torso of the outfit. She’s hunched over, thinking, while Champ and his buddy from Sector 2 yell conversation across the room from their seating assignments. 

Alex sits next to Waverly, and next to them, two empty seats. He looks as pale and terrified as she knows him to be. She wants to encourage him, to perk him up and get him ready for his demo, but she can’t. She can’t risk awakening whatever grand warrior sits inside him. She can’t create more competition. So she sits in silence, and watches.

Nicole is the last one from her Sector to be called. They start with the lumber region. Male tribute, female tribute. Then the male tribute from the fishing region, the female. Next will be Alex, from the textiles region, though his town sits on the edge of the farms and factories. Next is meant to be the female textiles worker. Then the male farmer. And finally:

“Waverly Earp, Sector 5 farming.” 

The room is gigantic, and the silence it carries is intimidating. All this space, and there’s nothing but chatter from the compartment above where the judges will watch and decide once again if she is television worthy, or if she should be slaughtered the second the gong sounds the games alive. 

The closer she gets, the more Waverly hears from those above. When she’s standing below their observation box, she realizes they’ve been drinking and partying this entire time, while tributes have been begging for their lives with a simple demonstration.

They have the respect to acknowledge her when she enters, welcoming her before reading the rules here. Ten minutes. One skill. Go.

She backtracks to the bows rack she passed on the way in. The upper and lower limbs of the weapon are a bright white, the grip the same dark blood red on her uniform. The colors of the Union. The weapon is pure steel, and far better made than anything she or Wynonna have ever been able to make by hand. Sometimes machines really are superior.

The weight is different. The string is tighter, far stronger than any she’s used before. She decides to start with her dominant hand to get a better feel for the strange version of her comfort weapon. 

Her comfort weapon. What a thing to have.

The end result doesn’t impress anyone, especially not Waverly. She pulls the arrow back with some difficulty, and it flies just under where she’s aimed for the dummy’s heart across the shooting range. She was aiming for the heart, not the lungs!

Quickly, she grabs the next arrow from the quiver she borrows. Silver, steel arrows balanced to perfection. She has a better understanding of the bow now and pulls back again, aiming slightly above the heart to be sure. It’s hard not to cheer when it lands perfectly on target. Another arrow. The string meets her cheek. The target takes her eyes. She inhales deeply, and for a moment she can smell it. She can smell the woods. She can see her sister, clapping her shoulder happily when she hits the target with perfection.

Three arrows shoot from her left hand now, and they hit their own targets just fine. She’s cautious with the first shot, braver with every additional one she shoots. She takes the ultimate risk and notches two arrows between the string and her fingers. She aims for two separate spots on a third dummy and hits both the head and center chest with ease.

This is the most Waverly’s felt alive since she was reaped. She has her bow, stranger or not, and she can fully feel Wynonna’s energy with her. 

So when she turns to find the judges have been ignoring her this entire time, she easily fills with anger. Here she is, fighting for her life, begging for a good score to keep her afloat and win her sponsors, and they sit on their asses, drinking and laughing and stuffing their faces like the games have already begun.

The games _have_ begun.

A roasted pig sits in the center of the feast they have, the first victim of their laughter before Waverly. An apple sticks out of its mouth. Apple. She thinks of last night’s prank. Of Nicole.

Did they do this to Nicole? Did they dare disrespect someone like her, from a higher stature? A well fed Career who is already strong and presentable, perfect for their games? No, they watched. Waverly knows they did. They watched one of their own, the elite, top of the pile, and chose to ignore the losers like Waverly and her people.

Waverly won’t be ignored. She’s going home, to her sister. She’s going to play smarter than everyone else and shove her victory down their throats.

She aims for the apple in the roasted pig’s mouth, piercing the fruit to the wall behind the laughing elites above her. One of them becomes frightened so drastically he falls backwards into a punch bowl. 

The Head Gamemaker isn’t as shaken. He looks into Waverly with offended but grounded eyes. A threat. He’s an older gentleman wearing a hat significantly less ridiculous as Doc’s and the president’s. Stubble littered all across his face.

“Thank you for your consideration,” Waverly says, bowing. She puts the weapon back before leaving, eyes watching her on the way out.

-

By the time Waverly has made it back to floor five, she’s in full panic mode. She shot an _arrow_ at the _Gamemakers._ There’s no way they’re letting her get away with this. She just blew her chance. If anything, the guy that fell into the punch bowl’s going to want revenge the most. She blew it. There’s no way they’re giving her something she can work with. She’s screwed now. She’ll never make it home to Wynonna without some sort of help.

Dolls doesn’t ask how her session went. It’s clear by the expression on her face, and he’s never been an idiot. Even Doc seems down about it. Funny, because yesterday Doc didn't care at all.

“What happened?” Dolls asks. “Was there a bow?”

She comes right out and says it, because she’s too upset to play the lying game right now. “I shot an arrow at the judges.”

Doc bursts into laughter. For the first time, she sees Alex make an expression other than dread—amusement. 

Dolls nearly drops his drink. “You shot—At—Waverly, why?”

The answer to Dolls’s question feels stupid. “They were—They didn’t care, Dolls! I shot three arrows with my right hand, three with my left, and I shot two at once. I missed the first shot, but I made all the others. They weren’t paying attention to me! It was—”

“So what, you got mad and shot at them?”

“I know it was stupid, okay? But they didn’t care, Dolls! I’m trying to get sponsors and they’re sitting up there, drinking and stuffing their faces!”

The Union’s seal appears on the TV across the penthouse, and the anthem plays. Dolls says they’ll discuss after they see what kind of score she’s about to get. Waverly sulks over to the screen. 

The Union projects photos their world class photographers took during the initial introductions, when things started under the arena. They try to make the tributes look as angry and bad ass and warrior-like as possible. Nicole certainly does. Waverly just looks terrified.

Sevens across the board for the Sector 1 miners. This makes sense, because so far they all seem to share the same personality and the same brain. Champ’s friend with the knives, Jack, scores a nine. The young girl, Rachel Valdez, scores a six. The Sector 4 lumberjacks score a seven and an eight. Champ himself, a nine. Waverly is surprised to see Nicole with a seven.

She’s even further blown away when she sees a nine next to the name Waverly Earp.

Doc is the first to cheer, and Dolls takes a deep breath of relief. Even Alex and his measly five are happy for her.

“I think you impressed them,” Doc says, and for once Dolls actually agrees with him.

She considers for a moment, maybe Doc believes in her now, too.

-

“I outdid you.”

She finds herself sneaking onto the roof again, long after everyone else has gone to sleep. Nicole is up here, as she was the night before, and probably the night before that, looking up at the stars like she’ll never see them again. True; she might not.

“What’s up with the seven, big bad Career?” Waverly further teases. Nicole is quiet, but she seems amused.

“They told me to choose one skill,” Nicole explains, “so I chose two to piss them off.”

Such a thing makes her miss Wynonna dearly.

“I ignored you last night,” Nicole says again. It’s been such a long day Waverly honestly doesn’t even remember. “Sector 4 was tough. Everyone hated me, and I hated everyone. I called people out for kissing the Union’s ass every second of the day, and they thought I was crazy for not praising them like gods. I hate the games, so someone nominated me to teach me a lesson.”

“I think you and Wynonna would get along really well.” Sometimes even Waverly thought Wynonna was crazy, the way she used to yell for hours into the woods. “It takes guts for a Career to say something like that.”

“Wait until you see my interview tomorrow.” Nicole finally looks at her, winking that wink again. “I’ve got something planned.”

“You’re going to piss them off again? On stage?”

“What’re they going to do, throw me in a fight to my death?”

They could punish people she loves back home. Then it hits Waverly Nicole doesn’t really have anyone back home. Just a cat no one but Waverly knows about. Nicole has absolutely nothing to lose, which means Nicole is going to do something drastic, over and over again.

It confirms Waverly’s theory, all throughout the training. Nicole is going to mess with the other Careers until there’s nothing left of them.

-

There is no break day in between, like Dolls implies there used to be back in the day. They jump right into the next phase: training to be stage ready. 

The interviews with Panem’s favorite TV personality are tonight. It’s the last event before the official games, the last chance to win the crowd over with fresh judges scores. This is the last fight for Waverly, against the people, before she’s fighting real opponents in the arena.

The longer this prep goes on, the more she thinks she’ll be more comfortable in the arena. This is the first time she’s able to frustrate Dolls, and vice versa. Waverly is so terribly, terribly awkward. Wynonna used to do all the talking, all the charming, all the deal making. Waverly was just the bookworm in the corner. She was known for her smile and wave, not her conversation. Not her charm. She doesn’t even know if she has any charm.

Before her time is up with Dolls, he tells her, if anything, turn it back on the crowd. Make them feel special, even if she hates all of them passionately.

Things are slightly easier with Doc. The lessons are easier. It’s whether or not she actually wants to comply is what holds her back. Why in the damn hell should she care about Union etiquette at a time like this?

Doc reminds her, “It’s the difference between life and death.” Suddenly she cares very much.

It was four hours of content with Dolls, and now it’ll be four hours of presentation with Doc. Then they’ll head downstairs, backstage to the interview hall, and get all dressed up for the people’s entertainment. All of this, for a five minute interview. 

She tries to focus on Doc’s ridiculous lessons (and not his terrible hats that only seem to get taller in length), but all she can think about is the fact she can’t find a way to be likeable. People liked her back home, but that’s because Wynonna charmed them. Not to mention she was carrying food. Starving people like people with food to offer very, very much.

Waverly tries to focus on the moment, right now. Thinking ahead is making her anxious. Thinking back, depressed. She needs to focus. She thinks about how much she hates learning how to walk all over again in something as impractical as heels. How ironic it is for a man to be teaching her how to do such a thing.

It gives her a terrible idea. “Maybe you can put these heels on and show me how to do it properly, Doc.”

His mustache twitches uncomfortably. “No, there is no need for that. Why don’t we move on to the next thing? Xavier says you need your posture looked at.”

Great. Now he gets to poke her around until she learns to stand up straight. Years of keeping low cover from animals in the woods is bound to screw up your posture. Wynonna’s is worse, from years of picking crops.

“Never thought you’d actually listen to Dolls,” she says, walking around with a book balanced on her head. It falls twice within one step and Doc tries not to look too hopeless.

“Well, he is a spit fire of a man constantly ready to pick a fight.”

The book falls again, and Waverly catches it. “Do you really blame him? Do you know how many tributes he’s trained and watched die in the past 24 years? I mean, these games, Doc, they’re not—”

“So I keep hearin’.” He sounds frustrated, like he doesn’t want to hear it anymore. It’s all the motivation Waverly needs to keep talking, to keep telling him how terrible these games are. But not before he adds, “It is hard, when you have appreciated somethin’ for years; it is hard to turn your perspective on its head.”

It’s more than anyone else from the Union will ever try to do. Doc is actually trying to understand, to feel bad, to go out of his way of celebrating something brought up as a major event to him. He’s trying to turn his nose at what the Union raised him on. Propaganda he’s been ingesting since he was a child.

Waverly decides to thank him by complying to his lessons. Tries to thank a Union man, something that turns _her_ nose up. But if he can try, so can she.

-

She’s not ready, but they’re out of time. Waverly doesn’t think she’ll ever be ready to actively go on stage and beg a bunch of strangers to like her enough to keep her alive. 

Waverly sits backstage, with the only Union man she can honestly say she actually enjoys being around. As Fish gets her into tonight’s outfit, he gives her the words of affirmation she needs, to keep her swirling mind grounded for just a moment.

“Just be yourself. They already love you.”

Across the way, she hears Alex fussing about his hair length and ask his stylist to trim it down. Suddenly he hates his bangs, and he makes a huge deal out of it. She wonders what Alex is going to do on stage. How he did with Dolls. She thinks about Nicole’s big scheme.

Before Fish lets her go, he gives her one more piece of advice. “I want you to twirl tonight. When the moment is right. Okay?”

For him, anything. Waverly nods before she moves closer to the stage. The order is backwards from usual; boring Sector 5 tributes first, all the way backwards to the more exciting Careers. Alex will be first. The way he stutters and bumbles about the stage does not help the case. He’s clumsy, and the people laugh at him. Luckily the TV host, Atlas Philomelos is not new. He’s not bad at his job, either. He’s good at what he does. He presents himself as a friend to the person in the chair opposite him, and he genuinely does what he can to make them look the best they can. Clinging onto whatever positive energy they have and boosting it for the crowd. Kicking the negative away. Most of all, he’s remarkably unbiased. At least from what Waverly can tell. He hasn’t laughed at Alex once, anyway.

The five minutes are painful to watch, but Atlas does everything in his power to make them go smoothly. 

The first thing Atlas asks Waverly is about her life at home. The things she misses, and the things she looks forward to returning to when she wins. That’s the other nice thing about Atlas: he makes everyone think they’re a winner. Even the losers.

“I miss my sister, Wynonna, the most. I’m wearing the mockingjay pin she left me tonight.” 

Cue an awkward moment of an abnormally muscular man, big enough to be a contestant himself, bending in a weird position to see the golden pin on her sleeve for himself. The gold contrasts to the long red dress she wears nicely. Not quite as blood red as the hat on Atlas’s head, a similar fashion to the wide one the president wears.

He takes this angle next. Waverly’s outfit in the opening ceremonies, the angel on fire. She explains the people back home used to call her an angel, and Atlas brings up the family barn going up in flames before she can think to sidestep it. 

Never too late. She says a huge thunderstorm that night caused it, and appeals to the audience by using Wynonna. Wynonna raising her. Wynonna being there for the family. Atlas is actually brought to tears, and Waverly pretends the people below who are crying isn’t the most overdramatic thing she’s ever seen.

She plays the final approach she can. She pretends to be like them, dramatic and emotional. “I want to get home, for her. I owe her so much. I just want to repay her kindness by winning.”

The crowd loses it, and she tries not to laugh.

As time comes to a close on her interview, Atlas brings up the outfit again. He says she looks stunning yet again, and she jumps at the suggestion from Fish. She asks if the Union would like to get a better look. 

Standing up, Waverly twirls, as she was told. More of Fish’s fake flames come to life from the fabric, and Waverly finds herself in awe. Laughing, joyously, as Atlas and the crowd cheer. In this blessed second, she forgets where she is and what she’s up against.

Waverly sits on a separate stage with Alex, still in view for the crowd to see. Two empty seats, just like in the waiting room for the judges. The two Sector 5s who didn’t make it. Alex still looks terrified. Waverly still feels a little giddy.

The lumberjacks are next. Both of them wear an uncomfortable looking outfit themed completely after trees. Both of them look like they’d rather strip naked on stage.

Champ is everything she expects. Loud and obnoxious, happy to tell everyone all about how amazing he is. Why he’s so great. Why he’s such a winner. A champion. On the screen above him, Waverly sees the profile photo they’ve created for him. His name, under the photo. Under this, the person who nominated him, and their relation. She’s not surprised to learn Champ entered his own name for the games. Champ is the true product of a nation telling their kids they need to bring honor and glory to their homes with these games. 

A small stand with a sealed envelope sits in front of Waverly. She’s seen enough games to know what’s in it. Soon, every tribute will learn who nominated them. On stage, in front of everyone, their reactions will be televised. The rage, the sadness, the betrayal. Waverly knows hers will truly be something for primetime—she falls under the “betrayal” category. 

As it turns out, Nicole does, too. Under Nicole Haught’s name, she sees the one who sent her here. Same last name. Same genetics. Nicole Haught was sent here by her father. She remembers Nicole saying someone has sent her here as a punishment for bad mouthing the games. Her own father would send her here, because she spoke ill of the government. 

Nicole is so charming, Atlas barely has to do any work. It’s almost unfair. She flashes that dimple and does her stupid wink to the crowd. Something that felt so personal, over these past few days, Nicole shares with a bunch of strangers in the crowd. Waverly doesn’t know why she reads into it so much. Why she’s so upset by this. 

Nicole is playful with Atlas, using every opportunity she can to make him laugh or make the crowd laugh. Waverly knows what she’s doing. She’s stalling. She’s waiting until her time is low so she can dunk on the Union and walk off stage without being confronted, without Atlas trying to cover up what she says.

“These games are unfair, Atlas,” Nicole says. She slouches in her chair without a care. Her outfit matches Champ’s, another light blue and white pattern. She wears long pants divided in half by the colors, diagonally. A long button up overcoat with no sleeves takes her torso, showing off the tattoo on her right arm. When she stands, the tail of the coat hangs by her knees.

“How so?” Atlas leans forward in his seat, curious. His hat blocks most of the light from his face, from what Waverly sees in the cameras.

“They’re a scam, for one. We’re supposed to kill each other? While President Clootie preaches unity, we’re supposed to hate and kill each other?” Atlas’s character breaks long enough for Waverly to see the disapproval, before he reboots and turns his own charm up. “And for two, well . . .”

Nicole doesn’t finish. She motions Atlas, as if motioning him to guess the answer. Her time is running out. Waverly wonders why she’s being so calm now, if there’s less than a minute left. It’s time to explode, and she’s totally calm. Atlas mentions this as well, but she motions him again.

“Is it someone back home?” His face perks up suddenly. “Oh, don’t tell me there’s someone waiting for you?”

She nods. “Close.”

“Oh, this is so delicious!” 

He gestures to the crowd, all of them sitting on the edge of their seats in anticipation for the love life of a complete stranger. Then again, Waverly can’t stop herself from doing the same. 

“Do you fancy someone, Nicole Haught?” Atlas squeals and bites down on his giant fingers’ nails.“Oh, you must tell us! _This_ is unfair! Just unfair!”

He gets the crowd to laugh and cheer and beg to emphasize his point. Atlas and Nicole, playful friends. That smirk Waverly is unsure she hates resurfaces. 

“It is unfair, Atlas,” Nicole says, and Atlas nearly falls out of his seat the way he leans over the edge. “You already know her. You spoke to her first. She twirled for you, and everything.”

Nicole Haught just told all of Panem she has a crush on Waverly Earp.

 _I knew she was playing me,_ Waverly thinks. Nicole gets up from her seat the second her time runs out, and Atlas says something about wishing he could extend their time. The crowd begs for more time, to learn more, to hear Nicole talk about this love story she’s created, but their wishes go unanswered. She even makes it worse by high fiving Champ when he spurs her on, congratulating her like she’s done something good.

Something good for them, maybe.

Waverly can barely focus. She can’t watch anyone else. She tries to pay attention to that young Rachel Valdez, a tribute she still hasn’t figured out by now, but she can’t. Jack and his knives are a threat, but she can’t focus.

Nothing tethers her back from her anger until all the tributes are instructed to open their nominations in front of Panem. She’s already mad. She might as well tack more onto it.

She feels the betrayal, all the way until the closing ceremonies begin. She doesn’t notice the chaos around her, the yelling and screaming and the sudden ushering of bodies out of the interview hall. She barely registers she’s being shoved back to the elevators to her floor until she sees Nicole, and decides to take out her anger on her. 

It’s hard to focus on the fact Alex pulled a pair of scissors he hid in his jacket and killed himself on stage when she’s been betrayed by two people within the same hour.

She shoves Nicole into a wall with all the anger she feels, and Nicole sits there and lets her do it. It makes Waverly even madder. Nicole speaks, with her charmed words, before Waverly can speak first, and it only fuels her fire.

“I did you a favor. Waverly, your grand solution was to twirl around and giggle!” There she is again. That annoying Career from the training gym. “I made you desirable! Now they love you!”

Dolls swoops out of nowhere and pulls Waverly off of Nicole, shoving her into the elevator. She hears Nicole yell how she just handed Waverly the games, before the doors close and separate them.

Waverly doesn’t want to be roped into Nicole’s plans. Nor does she care for the charity. 

-

In the penthouse, Doc offers her a drink. She takes the glass in his hand and throws it across the room. Dolls is quick to yell like he’s her father, and she shuts it down before it can go anywhere.

“Look what she did, Dolls! She just completely fucked me over!”

“She did you a favor, Waverly!” He yells with the same intensity Waverly gives him. He’s a victor. He can play, too. “She made you desirable—she’s right. She helped you. And then our friend Alex ruined your advantage.”

Waverly exhales and tries to calm herself. Alex actually killed himself on stage. No wonder he wanted that haircut so badly—he wanted to steal the scissors. At least he outdid Nicole’s big moment of rebellion, too.

“What now?” she asks. “Will they cancel the games?”

“I doubt it. The arena could blow up, right now, and they’d still find a way to make it all happen. But now they’re going to gun even harder for you. The Gamemakers. It would be worse if Nicole hadn’t—”

“You are _not_ taking her side, Dolls.”

“Whether or not you agree, Waverly, it’s the truth. I’ve been doing this for 24 years.”

She has nothing to say to that, and Dolls takes the chance to send her off to bed like a child. But she can’t. Not yet.

Waverly leaves the penthouse and climbs to the roof.

-

The first thing Waverly does when she enters the roof is throw an apple she stole from the table in the Sector 5 penthouse. It hits Nicole in the head, snapping her out of whatever daydream she was having. Waverly wants her full attention for this. Nicole doesn’t get angry. With the way Waverly rushes over to her, she even looks a little spooked.

“I don’t need your help, Nicole. I have never needed your help, so stop playing games with me!”

“Waverly—”

“What’s your problem? From the second we saw each other at the chariots, you’ve been harassing me. What do you want from me? You’re a Career, Nicole, I don’t want anything to do with you!”

Nicole stands up to her full length, and Waverly keeps a strong ground against the size advantage. She pretends she’s not totally intimidated by the person she labeled the biggest threat days ago. She stands directly in front of Waverly, staring her down as she asks, “Then why do you keep coming back here?”

Waverly ignores the question. “I don’t need a babysitter. Or an _angel_ of my own. I don’t need your twisted idea of ‘help’. I can do just fine on my—”

“You can’t do shit on your own, Waverly. This isn’t about skill, haven’t you learned that yet? Charm, Waverly. Charm over talent. That’s how you win. The boring guy—” Nicole jabs a finger into Waverly’s chest— “with no personality will never win. Neither will the kiss ass; Champ. It’s the people like me, and it’s the people like your sister. The types of people they hate, they love—everyone loves a rebel. Everyone loves confidence, Waverly. No matter what, they go to your sister. Because, when it comes down to it, no one else can solve the difficult problems. Only the people like me and Wynonna, who can’t follow the rules, and don’t fit in with the crowd. It’s the people like me, who can play the crowd and get every one of those Career shit heads on my side. You have no charm, bookworm, and you know it. You’re just mad you needed me to help you, because you insist on being a loner.”

Waverly jabs her own finger into Nicole’s chest, her way of fighting back. “Fuck you, Nicole.”

“I know you’re angry, Waverly. I saw who nominated you. That doesn’t mean you get to come up here and take it out on me. Don’t scream in my face. You’re not my father.” Nicole turns to leave, but she stops and turns herself around. She hasn’t made her peace with this yet. “And for the record, I’m ‘obsessed’ with you because I think you’re smart. I think you’re going to win and I wanted you on my side. Hell, yesterday I wanted you to go home to your sister, but I guess I can go to hell, right?”

She walks off now, done with this conversation.

Waverly returns to her room without a word.

-

Alex haunts Waverly’s mind, because it all finally catches up to her. He was standing right there, right next to her. One moment he’s reading his letter, the next he’s pulling out a pair of scissors and splattering blood everywhere. Doesn’t he have people back home? What’s going to happen to them?

She should’ve said something to him. She should’ve checked in with him. She knew he was freaking out. That he was terrified. Now everyone he’s ever known is going to face the Union’s wrath for attempting to ruin their games.

Then she considers who nominated him. A father, mother, uncle, aunt. Rival baker. Former friend. Sibling.

Waverly cannot believe she was nominated, sent here, to her death, by Willa Earp.

Her sister wants her dead. Willa’s never liked her, sure, but dead? Televised? For people to bet on? Waverly wonders what awful things she must’ve done to Willa against her will, because she certainly can’t recall doing anything of her own. And Nicole, with her father—

No. She can’t think about Nicole. This can’t happen. Nicole is bringing her into a game of her own, against her will now. Another nomination she can’t stand.

Nicole just wanted to help.

Whoever heard of a Career wanting to work with a Sector 5? Going out of her way to do so?

A part of Waverly wants to go to the roof, to apologize and thank Nicole for looking out for her. But she can’t. She’s burned and destroyed that bridge. It’s fallen into the abyss below, never to be seen again. 

She can’t afford an alliance anyway. How kind will Nicole be when they’re the only two left? In a game where there’s only one victor?

No. Waverly needs to stick to the original plan. She needs to fight by not fighting at all. She’ll use her skills, despite some people’s philosophies on how skills work. This is all on her. It’s not up to any other tribute to decide if she’ll see Wynonna again. It’s up to her.

She’ll do whatever it takes to get home to Wynonna, even if it means taking Nicole Haught down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bye-bye Peeta knock-off, enjoy the bread in heaven **salutes**
> 
> Next week, the Hunger Games begin. Stay tuned folks, this is where it gets exciting.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading. Forever appreciated. Because I’m a god damn sap.


	5. Chapter 5

A final farewell and shake of the hand from her mentor. A firm hand on her shoulder from Doc. He told her, genuinely, he believes in her. He’s grown fond of her in their short time together. Waverly thinks he’s just being nice, because so far all she’s done is yell at him and disrespect Union manners.

They take her to a hovercraft at dawn. There’s no way hard partying Union citizens are awake yet, but there’s still much prep for the tributes to do. Mentors and escorts go to the Game Headquarters to talk sponsors up. They’ll probably spend all morning convincing them Sector 5 isn’t a lost cause after last night’s fiasco with Alex, and the fact there’s only one tribute competing for the entire Sector.

Waverly boards the hovercraft with her stylist. A doctor injects what will be her arena tracker into her forearm. It isn’t a pleasant feeling, and she rubs at it until they land. Even on the way back to the arena catacombs. A different section from where she initially fought for her life, thankfully.

In the Launch Room, Fish prepares her with her final outfit. She takes the moment to tell him how much she liked last night’s dress, and compliments his ability to set things on fire. Ironically. She even kept the fire patterned nail polish. 

It’s all the conversation she can make. Fish says he’s on limited time and takes every second to study the outfit waiting for Waverly. Her arena uniform. Not his design, the Union’s. He’s never seen it before this moment. He gets a five minute warning and uses the remainder of the time to give Waverly everything she needs.

It’s a lighter outfit, thin. It has a breathable fabric that will last against water. He predicts a hot, tropical climate, likely humid. He hopes there are plenty of trees for her to use to her advantage. 

The time he has runs out, and he uses the final seconds to wish Waverly luck. “You’re definitely the best tribute I’ve ever had. My favorite of all time. I believe in you, angel.”

Fish fastens Wynonna’s pin on Waverly’s shoulder, and then disappears behind the door, forever. This will be the last time they meet, either because Waverly won’t make it or she’ll be so rich and famous from this she’ll never have to see him ever again. 

She throws on her final outfit patterned with the signature Union white and red, a full body jumpsuit. It’s as flexible as Fish thought. Won’t slow her down.

Waverly sits on the couch in the room for what feels like an eternity. She understands why people back home used to call these pregame hours the time of “Stockyard”—it’s when the tributes wait to be slaughtered, like the livestock back home. Waverly is about to be slaughtered. She’s seen those houses in action. She’s seen the cattle, getting chopped into a million little pieces. She is the cattle now, mindless and impatient to get moving again.

The door unlocks, and someone comes running through it so fast Waverly falls on guard. Then the intruder wraps her into a giant hug and she knows, all the way into her core, this is the safest she will ever be in her life. For 50 minutes, she will be allowed to spend her final moments with the one person she cares about the most. 

First thing Wynonna does is fuss about her braid. It’s too loose; it won’t hold. It’s gentle as a massage, when Wynonna re-braids it for her. Her hands are gentle, caring,  _ loving _ , as she braids Waverly’s hair all the way down, eyeing it until she’s satisfied. Then she gets a good look at Waverly. A long, studying look, like it’s the last time she’ll ever see her. As if Waverly’s about to be sent to her death or something.

Staring Waverly dead in the eyes, Wynonna tells her, “I beat the living shit out of Willa last night.”

Waverly doesn’t want to talk about that right now. They’re on limited time, and what’s done is done. Willa won’t steal this moment from her. From them.

Instead, Waverly instantly tears up and clings to the one sister she loves with everything she’s ever had. “I can’t do this. Wynonna, I can’t, I—”

Wynonna wraps her in her arms, probably intending to keep her here until the Union rips Waverly away forever. It’s what Waverly wants, anyhow.

When Wynonna finally lets go, Waverly feels to pull her back and stay here forever. She knows Wynonna wants to, too. The look on her face tells Waverly she would kill every Union goon in this town, right now, if she had the arsenal. 

Instead she kneels with Waverly, both too weak to stand. She grabs her shoulders and looks her firmly in the eyes. Wynonna’s crystal blue eyes bounce all light back into Waverly.

“Wynonna—”

Quickly, Wynonna’s hands grasp the sides of Waverly’s face. Centering her focus. Wynonna’s hands are warm. The scent of the woods lingers on them and Waverly embraces it for as long as she can. “You can, Waverly. Baby girl, you’re the one person who can.”

“No, I—”

“Listen to me. Waverly Earp, you are far smarter than everyone else. You can hunt. Use that. Family herbs book—that’s all in here.” Wynonna taps the sides of her head. Her thumb swipes the tear falling from Waverly’s eye—no one swipes the ones growing in hers. “Find a bow. You find a bow and you run, okay? You run.”

Waverly nods. She hails this advice far higher than anything Dolls can ever give her. She doesn’t realize how tightly she grips Wynonna’s hands in her own.

“I need you to be selfish, okay? Forget stopping to help starving kids after a hunt—I need you to be selfish. You’re a powerhouse on your own, got it? Don’t let someone else slow you down. Use that big brain of yours.”

Wynonna’s hands drop from her face, and instantly Waverly takes the chance to hug her again. They sit here on the floor, together, all the way until they get the five minute call. Wynonna thumbs over the mockingjay pin on Waverly’s shoulder. The Union’s most embarrassing defect. Wynonna’s symbol of anti-Union. Wynonna’s bravery and strength.

“I’m betting on you. We all are.” 

Wynonna has tried to be strong this entire time, but in this moment, in the true final moment, even she can’t fight the tears with all her strength. 

“I love you, baby girl. You are my world. You have kept me going, for years, and I cannot thank you enough. I  _ love _ you, Waverly. You can do this, you hear me? My angel, you can do this.”

Waverly nods. She can do this. She can go home. Wynonna says she can go home, so she will go home. She will do whatever it takes.

She clings onto her sister until it’s time. Staring at Wynonna until she stands in the sealed tube, ready to ascend into the arena. Ready to begin the fight for her life. Wynonna gives her a final nod of the head before she disappears from Waverly’s vision. The last word of advice her sister gives is for her to hold her head up high. She remembers what Nicole said about confidence—everyone loves confidence.

She stands tall, ready to face the president’s games. She’s ready to go home to Wynonna. She’s ready to repay all the sacrifices Wynonna has made to keep her alive all these years. Her strength, her charity, her wisdom—Waverly is here to give her sister a better life. It’s her turn.

Waverly’s eyes fight past the blinding sun. She knows where she is. The 50 second countdown eyes her, from the platform she stands. If she steps off too early, she’s done before she can begin. 

She looks around. The Cornucopia, the giant golden horn stashed with weapons and supplies, stands in the middle of 20 platforms, of which 17 are occupied. 17 sets of eyes plot how to survive the bloodbath to follow. 

Waverly sees the bow, waiting for her. Waiting, deep in the center of the weapons, where everyone else will be gunning. There are backpacks and loose supplies scattered far from the Cornucopia. Grabbing one of these and running will be the safest, simplest option.

But she needs that damn bow.

She observes who will be in her immediate vicinity. One of the Sector 3 tributes. One from 2, on the other side. She can outrun them. If she starts the second the gongs sound the games alive, she can make it. Grab the bow, grab a pack, head for the tree. Fish’s wish came true—there are plentiful trees for her to choose from.

Across the way, her eyes fall on Nicole. One of the biggest people here, and a Career. She looks intimidating in her uniform. Yet, she doesn’t spend her time snarling at anyone. She looks at the platforms. For a contestant. Not Champ. Champ is just across from her. Her eyes fall on Waverly. 

For a short second, she appears to be considering something. Then, before Waverly knows it, Nicole is doing her smirk again. Winking, in a way Waverly knows she’s doing to make her furious after the night they just had. It’s the only explanation. 

The final three seconds approach them. The second the gong strikes, the second Waverly is meant to run, is wasted on Nicole’s winking. She’s lost her head start over everyone else.

Right off, Waverly is foolish. She lost her head start. Just like that. She watches as Nicole tops everyone else’s speed and grasps for a silver trident calling out to her. She dodges someone else’s attack and spears them through the chest. The first tribute to fall in the 99th Hunger Games, by her hand. Again, she catches Waverly’s eye. She does not smile this time. Friendly, flirty Nicole Haught is gone.

Waverly sees some tributes running for the trees, no supplies in hand. Not risking the bloodbath. For a moment she considers doing the same. She curses herself repeatedly, with every step, for letting Nicole get in her head. Nicole is a Career. Waverly has burned that bridge. Nicole is not her ally. She decided this already. 

Wynonna told her to be selfish, to not let anyone slow her down, and she’s already failed her sister’s wish.

Waverly passes over a bright orange backpack and grabs the black one mere inches from it. She plans to reach for the orange one before another tribute leaps from nowhere and wrestles it from her hands. Bigger kid, quite the anger in his eye. He is determined. But so is she. 

Someone else does the job for her and throws a knife into his back. She grabs both packs and begins sprinting. Another knife flies for her, but gets lost penetrating the pack on her shoulders. Free knife! 

She looks over to silently thank the idiot responsible for the weapon. It’s Jack, the Career who was arguing with Champ. Maybe Careers are good for something after all.

Waverly straps the orange backpack to her front and jogs, aimlessly, lighter and lighter the further she gets from the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. There is no time to look through her supplies, but she does retrieve the knife gifted to her as she travels.

It’s hours before Waverly feels safe enough to stop. Though her head remains on a swivel. She quickly dumps both packs and tosses away the orange one. No need for a bright neon target. She notes she hasn’t seen any water this entire trek, despite the humidity seeping into her skin. She figures with her luck, the water is in the opposite direction. 

The first item she identifies is one of plain cruelty. A steel water bottle, empty. She sighs and tucks it away for later. Iodine, for purifying the water she doesn’t have. Long rope. A sleeping bag. Crackers, dried beef jerky. A small knife for cleaning fish—there has to be water here. A mass of it. She eats the beef strips before continuing, putting distance between herself and whoever else lurks. Later in the night, she will get the recap and find her footing.

The forest stretches for miles. Waverly wonders how large the arena actually is. She wonders what type of adventures she and Wynonna would get into if their hunting grounds was this massive. What game they’d catch. How many trees she could climb before her sister nervously shouts for her,  _ Get back down here, you stupid little shit! _

She tosses her knife at half the skill of Jack and catches a rabbit in the back. Cooking the meat quickly before destroying the fire and moving as far as possible from it. Considers where to sleep tonight. Her eyes find the trees. Ground predators never look up . . .

Waverly finds a thick tree and settles high up on a welcoming branch. She passes on the sleeping bag for now and ties herself to the branch, as funny as it would be to the audience for the smartest tribute to fall from a tree and die. Wynonna would appreciate the irony. She considers ditching the sleeping bag. It’s too hot, rendering it useless weight. A Wynonna anti-Union rant races in her mind. Maybe they want her to drop it, before freezing her to death with a freak storm. She vows to hold it close.

Her rabbit is finished off before the cannons sound. One for each fallen tribute, typically the moment they die. But the bloodbath is so quick, it’s too difficult to track in the moment, so they delay it until the end of the day. Waverly notes almost half of the tributes have died. Moments later, the Union’s seal will show and the anthem will play. Each and every fallen tribute will be projected into the sky. The Union’s way of honoring them. How does one honor someone they forced to fight to the death in the first place?

A smile comes across her. What a Wynonna thought to have. She wonders how mad her sister is, the way she didn’t manage to grab the bow. How she let some Career distract her. 

But was Nicole really just some Career?

The faces in the sky pull her to the games. A lot of the Careers who didn’t join Champ’s alliance are dead, including those from his very home. Nicole is alive, still out there. Waverly is pleased to see the youngest girl, Rachel, is okay, too. They honor Alex, as well, and the other Sector 5 tributes no one even got to meet. More than likely out of obligation and not sorrow. But then, doesn’t that extend to every fallen name in this game? 

The only person who will mourn Waverly’s death is her family. Maybe some fans, who are strangers she’ll never know anyway. Certainly not the president. This is television to him. She imagines him, eating sweets and laughing as they all die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Waverly, you delightful little bisexual
> 
> Happy holidays, folks. Nothing says togetherness and family like the Hunger Games, right? 
> 
> Apologies for the later upload this week. Holidays, and all that. Hope everyone stays safe and healthy. Next time, we’ll see Waverly as she lone wolfs it. I’m sure absolutely nothing can go wrong...


	6. Chapter 6

Dehydration is setting in. She knows it. Hiking for hours, Waverly still can’t find it. She climbed higher and higher, until she saw it. A massive lake nearly as long as this forest, across the arena. Ponds and entire streams are scattered about along the way. She just needs one. Just one little pond to keep her going.

She trips over herself as she treks. Just one, tiny little pond . . .

The sound of her heartbeat pounding makes her head ache. 

Her shoes drag across muddy floor. The pair is fitted to her, light and flexible. But they feel so heavy. 

She sits for a while, settling her stomach with crackers. She forces herself to kill another rabbit with a pathetic couple of attempts with the knife. She can’t stop now. Wynonna. Wynonna waits for her. Wynonna is watching her, with anticipation. Waverly feels to look up, at however many hidden cameras are scattered about, and reassure her sister. But she can’t find the energy just now.

Why did she hike so far? She’s supposed to be the smart one. What smart person locks themselves away, so far up, without water? What smart person gets distracted by a smirking, winking Career she’s supposed to kill by games’ end?

The thought of said Career brings her back to her feet. She needs to press on.

Her shoes drag across the muddy floor. 

They’re heavy . . . she needs to stop . . .

The sound of rustling brings Waverly back to her feet. She wasn’t aware she was sitting. The sound shoots a final burst of energy into her, blessing her with the ability to run. Her mind is clouded, but her boots know where to take her. They’ll save her.

They take her and take her, until she cannot keep up with them any longer. Her mind forfeits, and her boots have no choice but to lead her into the ground. She tumbles down this hill she’s so foolishly hiked, hitting everything she has on the way down. The mud tastes awful. 

Being alone, she decides, running from people, is awful. She’s never been good at being alone. She’s always had Wynonna . . .

Why hasn’t Dolls helped her? Does he even care anymore? She needs water! Now! Did he want a fighter, or did he want another grave on his resume?

Alex screwed up the sponsors. Dolls wouldn’t give up on her. Dolls is tired, too. Tired of these games. Tired of the torture, of being face down in the mud. He’s holding back the sponsors. He wants her to do this. She can do this. Dolls believes in her. She’s even convinced Doc to believe in her.

Wynonna believes in her.

Waverly forces herself from the mud. It squishes loosely between her fingers. 

It’s thin. 

The mud is thin. Loose. 

Soaking wet.

She lunges past the trees in front of her and sees it: a pond. A tiny, blessed pond. She paws at her pack, her fingers shaking and grasping desperately until they emerge with the bottle and the purifier. Desperate or not, she doesn’t trust a random pond. Though Dolls seems to think so. 

Waverly drinks until her body begs her to stop. She can’t help but gorge herself on it. Panting, giddy, giggly, Waverly sits here, leaned against a tree. The day has passed her, and she should hide soon, but she takes this moment for herself. Just a moment. She wants to admire this lonely pond, keep it company for the deeds it has done.

-

Waverly spends some time near her pond. It’s her best friend. It keeps her clean, and it keeps her hydrated. Maybe even a little sane, too. Talking to a pond—it’s come to that.

The games are crawling by. Last couple recaps have been empty skies. Something is about to happen. The Union citizens will whine if the Gamemakers don’t do something. Or they’ll all get lucky; maybe hours of Waverly talking to herself by a lake is entertaining enough. 

Even Waverly is going mad by this lack of action. She at least hoped the Careers would pick the others off. Start a massive gang war or something against one another. She considers going out there and throwing rocks at people until they start another bloodbath. She’s not sure how much longer she can wait these games out.

When the parachute arrives, she recalls how well her sister knows her. 

Late at night, another bland sky. Another day of no cannons. A parachute attached to a silver container interrupts Waverly from drawing her pond by carving it into a tree. She expects something from Dolls. A note to tell her to stop acting crazy. It’s from Wynonna; from the people of Sector 5. From Purgatory. 

Inside she finds a small leatherbound journal with three pens attached. Waverly looks up, as if looking into one of the millions of cameras in here, and she grins. Laughing joyously (and perhaps maniacally). Wynonna sees her slipping and is lending her strength.

Waverly wakes energized. She washes her face in the pond and heads out for a morning hunt. She’ll be a master of all things rabbit by nightfall. Now she has a journal to write a cookbook in.

She climbs the highest tree she can find and surveys the area. More trees. The massive lake. The open land where the Cornucopia lives. A mountain stream. Her pen captures it all. Every possible detail. When she’s finished, she draws the fallen tributes. Her own recaps. Weapons those who remain are experts in, and might have. She places a check next to Nicole’s trident. No way Nicole let that thing be free forever.

Wynonna’s strength walks her around. She maps the area, in detail. Which points to watch. Best places to sleep. Best vantage points for locating Careers and other unfriendlies. Her head stays in the notebook all day, and well into the night. The next morning when thunder awakens her, clouds stealing the sunlight away, she draws her sister. Her sister, hunting in the woods. What she’d give to—

Something burns Waverly’s skin. She calls herself crazy and continues with Wynonna’s hair. Wynonna’s wild and crazy hair, her curls natural stylists of their own—

Waverly hand burns. She looks up, out towards the pond. Steam bounces off the rocks below, scarring them. The clouds move irregularly. 

Irregularly. There were no cannons last night.

Waverly unties herself from the tree branch and rushes to the forest floor. The clouds move faster, seemingly following her. She runs, though she’s unsure where. Anywhere the cloud isn’t seems like the safest bet she’ll ever take. She tries not to think of the possibility of running into someone.

Her skin screams for relief, burned redder than the blood the Union gladly paints all over their arenas. She stumbles upon another happy little pond and dunks her exposed face and hands in. The relief of it makes her want to cry. The only way to extinguish a girl on fire—rain her flames out.

Back on her feet. Quick as her boots take her; her boots know where to go. She looks down and sees her clenched fists as she moves. Bright, angry red. When she stumbles past this open pond and back into the woods, she finds more redness staring at her.

For a moment, they all pause. A frozen moment in time, all but the sound of Nicole Haught’s trident pulling out from someone‘s chest. 

Waverly looks at Nicole. Wet hair, face as red as the strands plastered to her face. 

Nicole stares at her. She stares at Nicole.

When the cannon sounds, it is the bloodbath all over again. Waverly runs deeper into the woods with a hoard of Careers on her tail. She hears Champ Hardy whoop and cheer excitedly. A wolf after a hopeless deer. On the bright side, the rain seems to have cleared. The Gamemakers got the people their entertainment. 

Can’t outrun them forever. She knows that. Nicole is much faster than her. She’ll be on her in—

She should’ve been on her by now. 

Waverly shakes her head. Nicole is just another Career. Another Career, who spent all her time in combat and weight training. All her time flirting, only for Waverly to yell and tell her to fuck off.

No, she should give Nicole more credit. She wouldn’t kill Waverly over that. At least, she wouldn’t be as excited as Champ.

Waverly scales the first tree in sight, at a speed that brings Champ to curse profusely. She wonders if the Union will censor it. Gore and guts? Sure. Profanity? Have some manners, Champ, there are children watching!

It worsens the more and more he fails to climb the tree. Falling on his back, twice. Waverly can’t help but find her own entertainment—she gets to play her own games in this hell.

“What’s the matter, Hardy? Can’t climb a silly little tree with your big Career skills?” 

She thinks of how amused Wynonna would be in this moment, and she laughs harder to herself. Even Champ’s buddies seem entertained by the redness in his face. He angrily shouts for his Sector 1 cohort, Fortuna, to shoot arrows at Waverly. Waverly’s offended to find the person who took the bow, rightfully hers, couldn’t shoot a rock at her own feet.

Champ eventually steals the bow from her and makes his own attempts. The arrow goes barely two feet in the air before weakly flailing back down. When Nicole laughs next to him, his own Sector, he grabs her by the shirt. His threats only amuse her further. She shoves him off, staking her trident into the ground and leaning on it.

“You seem stressed, James,” she says. The Sector 2 girl with them laughs. “She can’t hide up there forever, man. Let’s just grab some food and wait her out.”

He throws one last tantrum, stamping his feet and screaming, before the others take Nicole’s lead. Waverly can’t help but be amused by the sight of an intimidating Career throwing a full tantrum like a child. Then she calms at the realization. Unfortunately, Nicole is right. She can’t hide here forever. As nice as it would be to sit up here, far from her troubles, and listen to the mockingjays sing their songs. 

She thinks of her pond. Talking to her pond, singing to the birds. The fairy tale life she made. If only the girl below was her knight in shining armor. If only she allowed her to be. She can’t help but wonder how different these past few weeks would’ve been if she didn’t destroy the alliance Nicole was trying to create for them.

She watches her false knight check the perimeter. Get a feel for the new land. As much of a feel as a fisherwoman can get, anyhow. Then, Nicole looks up. Not at Waverly. Not to threaten Waverly. Just past Waverly. Then her eyes go somewhere else. This is the countdown all over again. 

Waverly follows her eyes back into the trees. High above, right around where Waverly is, is the girl from Sector 3. Rachel Valdez. The young girl Nicole admired sadly, when she pranked the other Careers. It isn’t difficult to piece together—she and Rachel have made an alliance. A Career and a sneaky girl. Waverly wonders if the other Careers know.

Nicole nods at her partner before walking away. The young tribute gets Waverly’s attention and makes a sign with her hands.  _ Stay. _ She wants Waverly to stay up here. Is this her polite way of asking Waverly to die?

Not like she can go anywhere else, anyway. Sometimes back home, high up in the trees, she would find trackerjacker nests. Union muttations, genetically engineered wasps with venom that can make the biggest of men go mad in an instant. Drop it on the Careers below, run away. But of course there aren’t any nests. This isn’t Sector 5. This isn’t home. If it were, she’d be racing back to her homestead to be with her sister.

Before the girl leaves, she gives Waverly a thumbs up. Then she disappears clumsily into the trees, apparently trusting Waverly. Waverly looks down and finds the Careers huddled around a campfire. There’s nothing else to do now but observe. One voice is missing from lively conversation, the one that would otherwise lead it with charm, enough charm to outdo 17 other tributes on one interview stage. 

Nicole eyes the Careers, studying them. Quietly eating. She looks at Champ hatefully as he describes the bloodbath, reliving it as if it were a glory and not a horrifying event in which Panem’s youth slaughters each other on television. Nicole eventually quits and lays on her back. She meets Waverly’s eye.

She winks again, before closing them both.

Waverly takes this moment to slow down. The Careers are distracted filling their bellies and being horribly evil creatures. The recap is about to play. The Union’s anthem will blast loudly in the sky and cover her tracks as she dismounts her tree and runs away. Sorry, Rachel. Whatever’s about to happen, she doesn’t want any part of it. She should get a head start. Not screw it up this time, either. 

The burn marks plaguing her hands are angry, red, sore, blistering. Climbing this tree was pure and complete agony. Climbing down, she fears, may be worse.

When the parachute lands in the branch next to her, she hopes it’s food from Wynonna. Or Wynonna herself. She wouldn’t mind that.

Inside, she finds something else. Something she can’t complain about. She’s relieved to know Alex didn’t screw her over on sponsors when she finds burn medicine from Dolls. She opens the silver container and lathers her hands and face in the clear gel sap. Instantly, she feels better. She thanks Dolls and tucks it into her bag. Swapping it out for her journal. She has enough time to sketch the campfire scene below before she knows the anthem will play. Some of the Careers have even fallen asleep. She feels her own exhaustion settling in. Her guard falls and lets her mind wander, as she draws her sister.

Nicole could’ve killed her. She could’ve easily outrun Waverly. Easily thrown her trident and killed her, right there. Waverly knows her accuracy. All Nicole did was tell the Careers to leave her be and show Waverly she had a plan. Even after Waverly did away with her. From the beginning with the chariots, in the training gym, on the roof, on that stage, on those platforms, Nicole has had a plan. The kid. Taking out the Careers.

No. Waverly told Wynonna she would be selfish. She will make it home. Dolls told her alliances were a tricky minefield of their own, a game she didn’t need to bother with.

Waverly can play her own games.

Suddenly she wants to throw her journal, because she sees she’s drawn Nicole Haught and her stupid trident.

The trees rustle again at her level. Rachel has returned, and she pulls rocks out of her backpack as she cautiously crosses the interconnecting tree branches. Waverly isn’t willing to do the same, in fear those below will hear her and simply follow her. The rocks are thrown below, bouncing loudly off of tree trunks. When she’s close enough, she begins throwing them at the Careers. She lets Champ see her and lets him yell his curses before disappearing into the trees. She turns for a brief second to remind Waverly,  _ Stay. _

Waverly hears it. The ground, shaking. The earth, moving. There is a herd of animals coming—she knows that sound better than anything else. The announcement from the stage comes back to her: this year’s first modifier is a bigger mutts population.

The mutts burst from the tree line, forcing all the Careers to their feet in a panic. Not Nicole. Nicole grabs her trident and immediately heads for the tree Rachel occupies. Giant, orange sabre toothed cats sprint full speed onto the scene. One of them kills the girl with the bow by tackling her and sinking its giant teeth into her skull. She screams until the life leaves her and she can scream no longer.

Champ holds his ground, cursing at the beasts, swinging the sword he has chosen as his weapon. He takes down two of them, not backing down. The other tributes slow the rest down, and he uses the distraction as an advantage. He picks up a backpack and runs when the cats stop paying attention to him.

Waverly looks back on Nicole. She disposes of the cats on her own tail and leaps into the air. Rachel is there to catch her arm, to help pull her onto that first branch. The other tributes fight the cats, leading them farther into the trees as they try to follow Champ’s direction.

The mutts and the tributes are all looking away. It’s a terrible idea, Waverly knows it, but she has to. She has to go down there and grab that bow. She’s fast enough—she’ll make it. She descends the tree at a rapid pace, practically free falling until her boots touch the forest floor again. She stays low, the same way she would in her own woods. She hears Doc say something about posture in the back of her mind.

It’s easy to ignore the horribly mauled, disfigured form that used to be Fortuna. Waverly has a bow. She has a bow, and a whole set of arrows, both made by superior Union tech. She’s in a forest-based environment, where the biggest competition are mutts; animals. This is her victory, right here. This bow, right here, is her power.

So why doesn’t she feel victorious? Where’s the relief to wash over her? Why doesn’t she laugh with joy at the trophy in her hand?

One of the sabre cats leaps, high into the trees, and pulls Nicole back to the forest floor. Rachel hangs from a branch, and Nicole screams for her as she uses her trident to keep the cat from biting into her the same way as Fortuna. 

Waverly turns around. She has to turn around. She has to be selfish, to make it home to Wynonna.

When the cat starts winning, when it starts to pierce Nicole’s skin with sharpened claws, when Nicole screams and the sound echoes through Waverly’s very person, she finds herself apologizing. She can’t do it. She can’t be selfish. 

Waverly turns around, notches two arrows, and sinks them into the back of the cat that has pinned Nicole down. She picks one of Rachel's discarded rocks off the ground and throws them at more cats, yelling for their attention. She sees Rachel jump down from the tree and stab the next one coming for Nicole. Nicole tells her something, and she runs off.

Here they are again. Waverly, staring at Nicole. Nicole, staring at Waverly. Standing opposites.

Waverly winks at her.

Nicole smirks and runs towards a sabre cat, her trident at the ready.

Waverly hasn’t had the time to count how many arrows she has, but she knows they won’t last forever. They need a plan. They need to get out of here, now. She can’t pinpoint how many mutts there are, exactly. It’s pitch black and all she has to work with is a small campfire off in the corner. Nicole knows this, too, and starts looking for other options.

Waverly uses her trick shot again and splits two arrows across the way, shooting two cats perfectly through the throat. She makes more noise, pulling the attention off of Nicole as more and more swarm her. Nicole stabs them as they turn away, for Waverly. Waverly steps back as they circle her, sinking arrow after arrow into snarling mouths and exposed throats.

It soon becomes too much at once, and she hears Nicole running faster to help. One of the sabre cats catches Waverly off guard from the side. She dives from the way, but the next one pins her to the ground. A third sinks its teeth into her forearm, the one absent of a tracker. One by one, they disappear, taken away by a trident that shimmers in the firelight.

Waverly stares at the sabre cats. Soulless and snarling, they stare back into her. She sees a black cloud growing from their eyes, spreading all the way until it starts for her. In the back of her mind she thinks about trackerjacker venom, but she’s unsure why.

She takes off. The cats, one by one, seep into a black cloud that inches for her feet. The world turns sideways and spins a million times until she finally falls over herself. The cloud approaches her, and she screams as loud as she possibly can.

Her bow. She’s lost her bow. The white painted steel. It calls to her from the mud, by name, and she promises to protect it forever. She speaks gently to it, but it calls her name louder. Her ears sting from it. She asks it to stop yelling, but it does not listen.

Something grabs her, and she screams for it. This is  _ her _ bow! It’s hers! It called to her! Wynonna wants her to have it! 

A ghost forces her to look. A ghost with red hair, screaming so hard she cringes. So loud, she thinks she begins to cry. Or is it the ghost? She’s unsure.

“Come on! Get up! Run! You have to get up!”

The ghost forces her away. She runs, as it asks. The ghost, she decides, is terrifying. She runs and runs, unsure where. There are planks here. Planks and planks of broken wood, everywhere. It’s hard to breathe. Dust chokes her airways. Sweat and heat overtake her, and suddenly she finds she’s lost. She’s lost and there’s too many planks. They’re too high up. The dust is too much. It’s too hot. She can’t breathe.

She sits and weeps to herself. Where is she supposed to go? Where is she expected to run to?

Someone holds her. She doesn’t have to look up. She knows that warmth. Those arms were the first arms to ever hold her. “Waverly, angel . . .”

Angel. She was Mama’s angel.

Waverly looks up. She tries to find her mother, in this darkness. Here, in this suffocating emptiness. The walls cave in, crushing her before she can see Mama’s smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicole back at it with the pspspspspsp
> 
> I really liked the scene in the Hunger Games with Katniss and the Careers, so much that I wanted to put it in here. I swapped the wasps with the cats to keep it more original. Ish.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Next time, we’ll find out what happens when Waverly wakes up. Where she even wakes up, and with who…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING for character death this chapter. If you’re familiar with the Hunger Games I think you know which one…

When she sees someone beside her, with dark brown hair, she feels relieved. Then she remembers where she is and falls into a panic. Kicking and screaming.

“Hey! Hey! You’re okay! You’re okay, calm down!”

Waverly examines her surroundings. The flowing stream catches her eye first. From memory, she’s significantly closer to that lake, and to the Cornucopia. Second, she sees the shimmer of the painted bow she sought. Her backpack, untouched. Leaves are scattered across her forearm, and anywhere else the sabre cats bit her. She knows exactly what they are; she’s used them before. Apparently the sabre cats were loaded up with the same venom as trackerjackers. Similar to snakes. She supposes this is what she gets for looking for the wasps in the first place.

She is offered her own water bottle, by the same girl from the trees. Sector 3, Rachel Valdez. “I tried to give you some before,” she says, quickly so as not to come off as threatening, “but I think I scared you.”

For now, Waverly pays the statement no mind. She drinks greedily without saying a word. She doesn’t pay the thought of Nicole any mind, either. 

The leaves on Waverly’s hands have her full attention, when she looks at Rachel again. “You treated me, didn’t you? How did you know what to use?”

Rachel looks satisfied with herself. She explains Waverly was picking these leaves and chewing them up before she passed out. Waverly has no memory of this, but there’s no way someone from the electronics Sector knew this on her own. Unless she also had a huge collection of books back home. When Waverly thanks her, she pretends the act of saving someone’s life in the Hunger Games isn’t a major thing. So nonchalant.

“How did  _ you _ know that would work?” Rachel asks her. Waverly doesn’t see a reason to lie. Rachel saved her life and only wants a story in return.

“Back home, I used to climb trees and pick fruits. There were trackerjacker nests up there. Same venom as those cats. One year, one of them stung me and I fell out of the tree. I broke my arm. My sister Willa knew what to do. She was always good with herbs.”

And eager to get her killed for sport, apparently.

Rachel nods, satisfied with the story. Waverly thinks to ask her where she learned to climb, but she doesn’t. After a long, quiet moment, she tells Waverly Nicole should return with food soon. “You should get some rest.”

Waverly is helpless to refuse. So helpless she ignores the urge to grab her things and move on, away from a Career, to fulfill her big promise to Wynonna.

She laughs to herself. She does have the selfish concept down, if that’s her first instinct.

When Waverly hears voices again, she doesn’t open her eyes. Rachel mumbles something before whistling. Mockingjays are in the trees, and they respond sweetly to her song. Waverly guesses she figured this out on her own, or Nicole is using Waverly’s stories of home for her own gain. 

She peeks an eye open long enough to see red hair, with arms carrying an overloaded backpack. Nicole asks if Waverly is okay. Rachel reports Waverly was up. Sleeping, for long now. Regardless, Nicole tells her to spare some food. She jokes Rachel is getting a little too used to the Career life.

They question whether or not they should wake Waverly for food. Nicole doesn’t want her to be hungry. Rachel tells her she’s being invasive. Nicole replies, “Your face is invasive,” and Waverly thinks of Wynonna.

Nicole says something about needing to get back. She stands, tells Rachel to be careful, and promptly drops a metal container onto a flat stone. Waverly jumps awake, her cover blown. 

“Sorry,” Nicole whispers, frozen. Rachel calls her a jerk.

She looks the same as the Training Center: less like a threatening brute, and more like a goofball. More like what Waverly believes is the true Nicole. It’s all part of Nicole’s plans. 

Nicole offers Waverly the food they’ve saved, and Waverly isn’t stubborn enough to refuse. She doesn’t want to be left weak and defenseless.

Nicole hangs back a moment, supposedly to talk with Rachel. Waverly knows she is the reason, the way Nicole keeps glancing over. When they start getting into planning, Waverly realizes she’s out of the loop. Finally, she speaks.

“What’s going on in the games? What did I miss?”

Relief seems to rush over Nicole at the sound of her voice. She explains they’re in the final eight. By now, back home, their families are getting interviewed to make them all more likable. Appeal to the audience. It now hits Waverly she watched both those Career girls die last night, and she’s too sick to finish eating.

Nicole lists off, “There’s us three, Champ, Sector 3 electronics—”

“Sage,” Rachel corrects.

“Sage. Sector 1, Sector 2, and one of the lumberjacks. We’ve never seen the lumberjack, or Sage. Champ and Jack, the Sector 2, are best friends now. I barely ever talked to 1. Don’t even know his name.”

There are still four Careers, including Nicole. A mysterious girl likely armed with an axe. The really tall and frankly scary guy from Rachel’s region. A young girl, a guy with a knife fetish, a violent asshole, and Waverly. The Gamemakers are going to be happy with the show.

“Rachel has a plan for taking care of the Careers. Since last night didn’t go the way I wanted it to.”

Nicole explains Waverly was the biggest help in keeping the Careers out of the Cornucopia, where they’ve made a huge camp that runs like a fort. Nicole’s been trying to get the group to spend the night in the forest for days now, where the mutts linger. It would’ve been the fastest and easiest way to dispose of them. Then Waverly came along and gave her everything she needed, stuck in the tree like a cat.

Nicole wasn’t doing it to protect her. She was doing it to advance her own scheme.

Waverly wants to get up and leave, but she has to know what’s next. Careers are still out there, the ones she’s concerned the most about. She’ll be offended by Nicole’s intentions later.

Rachel is from the electronics region in Sector 3, not the automobiles. Nicole approached her in the Training Center, away from everyone else’s eyes, and made the pitch. Rachel rewires the deactivated mines under the platforms from the games’ start, and she’ll protect her. Rachel helps Nicole take out all the Careers, and Nicole will keep her alive for as long as she possibly can. 

Waverly wonders why Nicole has been so against the Careers, from the beginning. There’s the obvious threat of them, but it seems all she’s ever done since this all started is scheme against them.

They managed four mines from the platforms, while Nicole and the others were out hunting other tributes and one or two stayed back to watch the camp. The new plan is the original plan: blow up the entire Career camp.

Waverly is invested now. Though she’s not sure why Nicole is so free with her schemes. Before, it was all smirks and stupid winks. “Why haven’t you blown it up yet? Why wait? You have the bombs already.”

“What’s the easiest way to kill a Career?” Nicole asks. Waverly shrugs.

“Take away their gold watch?”

“We have no idea how to be hungry. We’re spoiled rotten,” Nicole admits freely. “But that’s the problem. Rachel grew up in an electronics factory. I can fish, but that’s not going to sustain us. I smuggle food, and if we blow it up—”

“Then you’re a hungry Career,” Waverly says.

“There's a massive lake out west. I’m sure you’ve seen it. If I can secure it, you know, get rid of Champ from puppy guarding it, we’re set. This stream has fish, but they’re all tiny.” She finally smirks. “I’m a growing girl, you know.”

Waverly tries to accept the humor, but her thoughts cloud her right now. Blowing up the camp and all the food is the best way to sabotage Champ and his friends. It’s true. But that doesn’t mean she needs to stick around. Nicole and Rachel can take care of it on their own. All Waverly has to do is just let it happen. She can bid them both farewell and go, right now. She knows Wynonna is screaming for her, right now, to run.

A question lingers on her mind. When she asks it, she doesn’t know why it bothers to leave her lips. “Did they catch you? With the cats?”

“I got us away and told the others I was chased off. I convinced them to stay at camp for a while. Champ thanked me for it, even.” Nicole laughs at that. Champ is being played and doesn’t even know it.

Hell, Waverly could be another player in Nicole’s games. She wonders, a good pawn or a bad pawn? Then she calls herself stupid—all pawns are the same.

Waverly can play games, too. “I can hunt. I have experience.”

Nicole falls onto Waverly’s board, rather happily, with wide eyes. “You can? With the bow?”

She nods.

“That’s why you went back for it.”

“Yeah. Snares, tracking, clean kills—I’m good.” She leaves out how she got so good. The being well read story will have to do. “I need more tools. There are only a couple arrows left in that quiver.”

Nicole nods. Thinking, planning. “Okay. Okay. I’ll get you arrows. Snares. Maybe some matches.”

“Fancy Sector 4 sponsors?” Waverly can’t believe they’ve actually locked down all those supplies.

“They haven’t sent me shit,” Nicole laughs. “What’s a Career suck at?”

Waverly finds some humor within herself. “Stopping to smell the flowers?”

She’s happy to see Nicole finds the humor. She finds Nicole has a lovely laugh. “What’s a Career’s greatest strength?”

No humor this time. Waverly thinks of the Careers back at the Training Center. Showing off and all around being obnoxious. Yes, including Nicole. “Big bunch of bratty brutes?” She stops. “Uh, no offense.”

Nicole shrugs. None taken. It’s true, isn’t it? “They’re hogging the Cornucopia; they have numbers. I leave on ‘patrols’—to see Rachel. Smuggle stuff she needs. I’ll get you your stuff, too. And you’ll help us?”

She can’t stare into Nicole’s pleading eyes forever. So she finds Rachel. Sitting closer to the stream and making fish hooks. No doubt a skill from Nicole. Nicole taught her how to fish. Nicole sought her at the bloodbath, not a weapon. Nicole is using the Careers and playing them for fools, helping Rachel. 

“Why?” Waverly asks. “Nicole, why are you doing this?”

Nicole points to Rachel. So quickly, so easily, as if she’d been anticipating this question. This odd scenario of a Career fighting for a Sector 3 girl’s life. “She has to live, not an entitled Career. She’s so  _ young _ , Waverly. Did you know she turned 18 two days before the reaping? Somebody nominated a 17-year-old, and everyone was okay with that.”

Waverly thinks maybe a self-sustained hunter shouldn’t win, either. They sent a child into the games to be slaughtered, and Waverly wants to do everything she can to ruin the Union’s horrific plan. Wynonna is 27. She’ll be okay. 

Waverly looks into Nicole’s eyes again. Still pleading softly. “How did you get us out?”

"I did what anybody would do.” Nicole tries not to smile and ruin the serious moment, but she can’t help it. “I threw you in a violent stream while you were unconscious."

Waverly is neutral enough to make Nicole try again with more details. The smile dies as she agrees to take it seriously.

“We saw you trying to heal yourself with the leaves. I had Rachel grab handfuls of them while I grabbed you. We ran from the mutts, until I saw a stream going downhill. I ditched the backpack I had and carried Rachel on my back, you in my arms. I took us as far as I could before I started taking too much water and, well, here we are. The leaves were safe in Rachel’s bag, and she—”

“You went through all of that to save me?”

She sees Nicole is growing uncomfortable with the conversation, the way her fingers start rubbing against one another anxiously. “I know you told me you didn’t want my help, but I couldn’t just leave you there. And you helped me, too, so I figured—”

Not for her own gain. Because she wanted to help. It’s too hard to believe. To help someone in these games, for the sake of helping them, and not for the sake of a trade-off. It’s bizarre. Nicole is beyond complicated, and Waverly can’t keep up.

Or, Nicole is simple and Waverly’s mind has been in a violent tornado ever since she was reaped. Maybe Waverly really does have the selfish thing down, so well that she can’t recognize what help is anymore.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s ruin these assholes’ day.”

Nicole grins, wide.

-

The snares are waiting for them in the morning. Not a new set of arrows. Rachel implies the fact Nicole didn’t stick around means she was in a hurry. No food, either. Rachel is nervous. Waverly tells her it’s time for a hunting lesson, and she perks up. The whole ordeal makes her miss Wynonna terribly. 

Rachel’s first day is significantly different from Waverly’s. She’s excited. She wants to learn, to explore, to have an opportunity to stand up for herself. Outright, she tells Waverly she loves the wilderness and the fresh air. It’s a wonderful change from the factory air back home. Despite the circumstances. 

All Waverly wanted to do that day was go home and read. Go home and be angry about Mama being gone. She didn’t want to stand up for the family. That was Mama’s job. Not hers, not Wynonna’s. She tried running away that day. Wynonna yelled at her, and she climbed up a tree like a scared cat. The only reason she came down was because Wynonna climbed up with her. They watched the sunrise together. Wynonna told her, calmly, they need to do things for themselves now. If they want to stick together, they need to fight against all the obstacles in the world holding them back. She held Waverly’s hands and reminded her, they were all each other had in the world. Ironic, coming from the person who told her to be selfish.

Rachel catches on quickly, and together they’ve set a fair amount of good-looking traps. She begins to tell Rachel the importance of keeping quiet in the woods, before remembering what she did to Champ in the Training Center. 

“I think you’ve got the stealth down,” Waverly says. Rachel looks quite satisfied by that fact. “How’d you learn to climb like that?” Waverly figures she’d ask. It’ll be a while before the traps are full, anyhow.

“It was all I did back home,” she says, so simply, so factually. Like scaling trees is nothing. “Some of the factories we worked with were faulty. They told us nothing was wrong with the machines, but every time I climbed up there, I found something new. I liked it. Working on the assembly line was boring. I liked making my own tech, too.”

“What’d you make?” Waverly’s curiosity is genuine. 

“I used to make these music boxes that sang. I got the idea when one of the machines broke down and started making a weird noise.” Rcahel shrugs. “But none of that will help me in the games.”

“Not like bombs,” Waverly laughs.

Rachel explains the process of the mines, and Waverly pretends she can actually keep up with it. With the passion in Rachel’s voice. When she said she loved tech, she wasn’t lying. She even pulls one out from her bag and explains what works and why. She wants Waverly to understand, and Waverly feels this is because Rachel is nervous she won’t make it. That she’ll die at any moment. It seems Rachel’s mind falls on this fear too, and she changes the subject to Waverly’s pin.

“It was my sister’s,” Waverly says. “She taught me, um—” Waverly stops herself, remembering the fact they hunt is illegal. “She used to find books all around Purgatory. Old, old books. I learned about snares from them.”

“Why the mockingjay?”

Probably wasn’t best to tell Rachel and the entirety of Panem her sister likes mockingjays because mockingjays made the Union look stupid. That the mockingjays were bred accidentally, after the muttated jabberjays the Union used to trick rebels easily became compromised and were set free, breeding in the wild with mockingbirds when they were supposed to go die off for their failure. For making the Union look foolish. 

Especially not while the Union was interviewing her family to tell the audience, the Union, why she should win the games. 

Waverly concocts the best lie she can tell. “They were all around 5. I used to sing to them. Wynonna always liked it when I sang.” Not entirely a lie. Wynonna used to get the birds singing in the woods when Waverly was particularly upset. “She figured I could keep it, to remember her by.”

“That’s sweet,” Rachel smiles.

“No one really cared for them, but I used to sing to them at the end of the day. When they heard the mockingjays sing, it was time to go home.”

She wonders what they’re doing back home, now that she can’t sing. Do they care? Are they relieved? Is anyone back home even rooting for her, or have they abandoned all hope for a better, stronger, more confident tribute?

-

They leave the snares for now and retire back to the stream. Killing time until Nicole comes back. Waverly grows nervous. Surely Nicole would’ve checked in by now? She’s new to this team, but the fact Nicole hasn’t been here for hours can’t be a good sign. 

Rachel tries to distract her by showing her what Nicole’s taught her about fish hooks. Waverly notes Nicole’s absence might be common, if she taught Rachel to fish. The days she couldn’t bring food, Rachel wouldn’t be left hungry. The most drastic of measures: Nicole dies, Rachel still stands a chance. Waverly promises she’ll teach Rachel to shoot a bow later.

When laughter breaks out behind them, Waverly’s heart stops. Before realizing it’s Nicole, teasing them. Apparently Rachel didn’t quite retain as much about fish hooks as she thought. 

“That’s really messy,” Nicole says, amused. Rachel shoots her a look, and she shrugs. “You don’t listen,” she says again, this time stepping over. She takes a new line from their small stash and begins to repeat the lesson.

Her hands transform. They don’t belong to a brute, a Career who depends on strength and throwing tridents several yards with complete accuracy. Her fingers are gentle and patient, tying knots with the accuracy of the trident into the Training Center dummy. Her hands are light, not the heavy ones that lifted several pounds of weights to intimidate her foes. 

Waverly understands. 

She finally understands. This is the real Nicole. When the show is turned off, when the competition is looking away, when she isn’t fighting for her life, this is the real Nicole. Waverly realizes, as Nicole raises the hook into the air and proceeds to give Rachel hands-on instruction, she’s never been able to get a good read on Nicole until now.

She’s unsure if this is intriguing or terrifying.

-

Nicole sticks around for much longer now. She follows the two as Waverly empties the snares, teaching Rachel by example. She helps them clean the first groosling—a common creature in the woods, fatty like a turkey—before retiring to the stream and putting her fish hook to use. 

Leaving Waverly and Rachel here, with their lessons. At first Waverly thinks this is lazy of her, letting Waverly do all the work. Then she puts it together. Nicole is leaving Rachel here, to learn without distraction. To let the teacher focus on her. One of these days she might need to do this on her own. Waverly isn’t convinced Nicole will need these skills for her own. If Rachel falls, there’s a chance Nicole will go out in a blazing fire against her fellow Careers. Give the people the show they’re so desperate for, right?

More snares are emptied and reset, and Waverly takes Rachel through the steps of how to clean and cook animals, doing one herself before having Rachel do the next. Nicole sits by the stream, peaceful with her silent waves. Bonding happily with the fish hook she’s made. 

Long after Rachel is asleep for the night, Waverly joins Nicole. Nicole isn’t too focused on fishing. Her boots are set aside and her feet float in the warm water. She stares out into the distance, studying the fake stars the Gamemakers have placed for authenticity.

“This is the one thing I never blew off at home,” Nicole says, and it’s so sudden in the silence Waverly is slightly startled by it despite the quietness of Nicole’s voice. “I used to sneak off. Find my own spot. I had a few of them.” She laughs to herself as the memory replays in her mind, and Waverly smiles. “There was the spot with that cat. I named him ‘Tom’; Tom Cat. He used to show up out of nowhere and scream at me until I gave him a fish. He looked so damn miserable, I couldn’t say no.”

Waverly thinks to tell her about the woods she and Wynonna hunted in. Her and Wynonna’s woods, the vast and endless world that kept them sane and kept them fed. Too bad it was illegal—she doesn’t need that to follow Wynonna, especially if she plans on spending her life on this kid.

She looks back on the kid, sleeping in a grass bed Nicole clearly weaved herself with her precise fingers. She looks back to Nicole. She wants to admit she just can’t figure her out; how’s she’s such a wildcard for a Career. The way she cares, it’s a  _ wildcard.  _ Throwing everything on the line for a kid she met for a few minutes. Starting a fake romance to protect Waverly. Faking out the other Careers and planning to destroy them from the inside. She wants to tell Nicole she likes this team, likes having people to watch her back, likes having the company after so many maddening days alone.

Instead, she asks a greater favor of Nicole: she asks her to describe the ocean. She has a vision in her mind from books, but books are books. She wants to see it. Who better to paint the picture than a person who spent all her time, staring out into the ocean? Fishing, for strange cats?

“Close your eyes.”

Waverly can hear Wynonna screaming at her. Telling her how stupid and foolish this action is, to close her eyes and leave herself vulnerable to a Career sitting with a trident on her right. A Career who has a sidekick she just taught how to trap and kill.

She doesn’t care. She closes her eyes.

“The air is similar to this, but not quite. There’s always a wind, tickling your face. Gently, and it blows mist into sunburnt skin. The air is fresh. Sand molds around your toes, every step you take. It’s warm; the sand is always, always warm. Sometimes we take the boats far out, and your hair blows in the wind. It makes you feel free, like nothing can stop you. Like there’s a world of endless possibilities out there. Water kicks up from the boat and bathes you in a cool shower. When the boat stops, out there in the middle of nothing, far away from the shore, far away from your problems—it’s the best feeling in the world. It’s just you and the fish. And  _ silent _ , my god, it’s so  _ silent. _ When you get back to shore, the waves speak to you; they pull at your feet, begging you to stay; begging you to come back. And tomorrow, you do.”

Waverly opens her eyes. The ocean sounds like the loveliest place in the world. Nicole keeps her eyes closed for a moment longer. Waverly doesn’t blame her. 

She tries to imagine Nicole out there, sitting on her own boat, her feet dangling off the side as her fishing pole waits for prey. She imagines Nicole on the beach, the warm sand shaping between her toes as she runs as far as she can, against the endless stretch of land. Her footprints wash off, engulfed by the waves, until she turns around and does it all over again, free.

-

For a moment, Waverly forgets where she is. She forgets she’s here, in front of dozens of cameras and thousands of people, stuck in an arena until the last person standing has murdered every last contestant. She forgets she isn’t in her woods, hanging out with other people her age for the first time in her life. People who don’t tease her for being the crazy Earp girl’s sister. The crazy Gibson lady’s daughter. For reading too many books. For raising her hand first in class. She forgets how wrong it is to be her, to pose as herself, laughing with a Career and her sidekick as the days count down. She forgets her promise to Wynonna, to be as selfish as possible for the sake of returning home. She forgets, and it’s the nicest feeling in the world.

Today they are lazy. Today they enjoy the spoils of the stash the Careers have hoarded, because tomorrow they will destroy it. Nicole’s plan will fall into motion, and the Careers will slowly fall apart, one by one. Waverly ignores the part of her brain concerned with what happens when it’s just them three left in the games.

Today Nicole is around for the majority of the afternoon, well into the night. Rachel eagerly checks the traps, happy to contribute. Happy to stand on her own feet, with her own resources and her own fighting chance. When she cooks them all a meal from the food she’s caught on her own terms, away from the Union’s falsely extended hands, Waverly takes a moment to pull out her journal. 

She sketches Nicole and Rachel, laughing by the fire. She sketches Nicole and her trident as they stand out by the stream, taking in the afternoon sun. Rachel watches Waverly’s steady hand, in awe. Mesmerized. She wants to learn to craft art like this. Waverly wants to promise she can teach her, that there’s enough time in the world. That there’s something beyond the games for the three of them.

Tomorrow will be the beginning of the end. Tomorrow will be tougher. Tomorrow will be war. Waverly wants one more moment, one more thing from today to remember. One more thing to hold onto before there’s nothing left to hold on to.

She teaches them to hunt with a bow. The two arrows she inherited are dull, and she has no plans to use them anyhow. Waverly draws a giant X on a tree for them, and takes some time to strengthen their grip for the beast of a bowstring. Waverly doesn’t demonstrate, doesn’t intimidate them. She would barely get to, the way her allies are vibrating with excitement. She laughs when Rachel can barely pull back the string, and laughs harder when the arrow flops onto the ground. Rachel tries, and over and over until she can land the dull arrow an impressively short distance from the center of the X, the makeshift bull’s eye.

“Okay, my turn.” The sight makes Nicole’s competition ignite. Oh, the challenge of outdoing an 18 year old girl. Too bad the bowstring isn’t on her side. When Waverly helps her, standing close, guiding her hands to pull it back, the person Waverly met in the Training Center surfaces again. “Staring at my muscles?”

Waverly lets go, and leaves the string to snap from Nicole’s grip. She panics and drops the whole thing, taking her flirts to the ground with it. Waverly is the one smirking now. “You’re insufferable.”

“I would never flirt in the middle of a death match,” Nicole declares, grabbing the bow before dropping it and having to grab it again. She falls serious. “I’m just here to become a hunter. It’s my dream. Shooting arrows is my passion!”

Rachel jokes she should probably find a passion she can achieve, and here Nicole’s competitive spirit reawakens. She turns towards the tree, pulls the arrows back as far as she can manage, her hands shaking with effort, and launches the arrow a solid four feet in front of her. Yet she laughs and cheers like she broke Rachel’s almost bull’s eye, like she split the arrow and will go home with the gold. She brags and teases, and Rachel bickers back with her.

Waverly can’t remember the last time she laughed so hard.

“Round two!” Rachel eventually declares. “If I win, I get to throw your trident!”

Nicole’s laugh dies. “Okay, whoa,” she says, backing up, “not my baby.”

Rachel steals the bow before Nicole can agree or disagree—disagree strongly—and prepares to shoot a dulled arrow. It lands at the bottom of the X, and Nicole laughs.

“That all you got, kid?” she teases, snatching the bow back. It reminds Waverly of Wynonna. 

When Nicole shoots, it barely lands at the bottom of the tree’s trunk. She has enough time to curse before Rachel is running off with her trident, the silver shining and shimmering as she runs from Nicole’s grasp. 

Nicole looks to Waverly, defeated. “Kids these days.”

“They’re crooks,” Waverly tries to soothe. Nicole looks back to the tree.

“Fuck you, tree.” 

Nicole makes to hand the bow back to Waverly, but Waverly lets her keep it a moment. Her most prized possession in this place, the one thing that will determine her life or death, she allows Nicole to borrow further.

She stands behind Nicole and motions her to aim the bow. Her hands on Nicole’s wrists, guiding her to pull the string back. Holding the bow at the right angle. Their fingers interlock and Waverly pulls with her, the string cooperating at last.

The arrow flies through the air and lands closer to the center of the X. But there’s no cheer from Nicole. She doesn’t even look where the arrow goes. She looks down, staring into Waverly’s eyes. Waverly follows, and for a moment in time she’s lost. 

At this stream, here with Nicole, she seems to keep getting lost. Games forgotten. 

Waverly stares at Nicole’s lips.

“Um, I um,” Nicole stands tall, collecting herself again. Reality crashes back harshly onto Waverly. “We should—I should head back. Make sure we’re all set for tomorrow, right?”

Waverly tries to force her frown away. Tomorrow is tomorrow. Today she wants to be here, away from the games in this world they’ve made. “Right,” she sighs.

One more time, she’s lost. She forgets the games, one more time, as Nicole hands the bow back to her. She forgets, and suddenly they’re in her woods back home. The two of them are back home, in her hometown of Purgatory, together.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Nicole says. Then she jokes she should probably go wrestle the trident from Rachel before Rachel spears herself, and she’s off.

Waverly contemplates telling Nicole to stay as she watches her walk off.

Nicole turns back, for a second, and winks.

-

In the morning, they find a giant feast. Nicole’s way of telling them to keep their strength up. Nicole’s reminder today is the day. Today is the countdown to the ending of the games. Today, the Careers’ reign will end.

The three will split up and begin pulling them away from their camp, one by one. The Careers hunt tributes by fire. Eventually food needs to be cooked. Waverly reveals her map of the arena, and Nicole picks three points for them to set fires. Rachel’s is closest from the mined stash. When the third fire is set, she can return and set the mines. Careers will be too far to spot her, or try to chase her. Nicole hopes they won’t see her at all. This way they can’t be determined to hunt her down. Waverly hopes Nicole can get away from the Careers without raising any suspicion, maybe even trick them into thinking she’s dead. Allow her to get a head start before the nightly recap proves otherwise.

The points are set. Their little world is packed up and ready to move wherever the games take them next. Rachel whistles a four-note tune and tells them to signal using the mockingjays. Whistle four notes to confirm they’re all safe. 

Nicole tells them both to be careful and begins to walk off, away from Waverly. She promises Waverly, “We’ll see you later.”

Waverly nods at Nicole as she takes off in her own direction. Rachel hangs back a moment to smile at her, bidding her own farewell. “Catch you later, mockingjay.”

Waverly sets her fire first. Significantly easier with the matches Nicole managed. The matches from what feels like so long ago, when the three first began their alliance together. Nicole and her planning.

Things aren’t quite going to plan. The first fire is set. Waverly moves her distance and preys on the open area they began the games, surrounding the Cornucopia. She stays out of sight, yards away from the stash. She’s ready to defend Rachel if anyone sees her. The second fire is set. Nicole’s. The third is not. 

Rachel didn’t set her fire.

Waverly abandons her post and runs for Rachel’s spot.

The four notes are whistled in a frantic manner, over and over, begging for someone to respond. One set does, twice. She needs two. She needs another set of the four notes. She needs the second fire to burst to life. She needs proof, anything. Anything! Whistles, fire, a friggin’ explosion, she doesn’t care!

Rustling in the trees forces an arrow to her bow, and someone jumps out with a trident aimed at her. Both weapons fall for a moment, before they begin in another direction. 

Both Nicole and Waverly are sprinting now, full speed, together, whistling. Nicole has always been faster, always been more athletic, so it doesn’t surprise Waverly when she stops first. It gives her time to prepare, even.

No, these few seconds aren’t enough time to prepare. She doubts any time in the world is enough to prepare. There is nothing in all of Panem, or beyond Panem or beyond this  _ Earth  _ that can prepare her for the sight of a spear jutting out of Rachel’s chest. The Sector 1 boy, and how he smiles, so victoriously. 

He sees Nicole and he frowns instantly. Waverly doesn’t look, but she can imagine the horrifying wrath of a tall, muscular woman armed with a trident she can throw with total accuracy. He runs, and Nicole follows, screaming. 

Waverly runs to Rachel and throws the offensive object as far away as she can. She holds the child in her arms, the way her mother might’ve. The way Mama might’ve held Waverly. She bites her cheek to keep from crying. Rachel doesn’t need to watch her weep and cry pathetically in her last moments. 

“Mockingjay,” the child whispers, and Waverly fights every dagger she feels piercing her heart. 

She thinks of all her botched kills in the woods. The sounds the animals made when she was too clumsy to hit them at the right mark. Waverly always made Wynonna put them down. This is significantly different. This is a human. A human girl, barely age 18, thrown into a game for entertainment, for fun, for celebration. This is the little girl that healed and saved Waverly’s life. This was the little girl Waverly was supposed to save in return. She tries to speak, but Waverly silences her.

“It’s okay,” she tries to say, but her voice erupts as a pathetic whisper. “You’re okay, Rachel. You’re gonna be okay.”

She tries to hold her, tries to be strong in Rachel’s last gasps of life. The last visions she’ll have of this world. But her hands shake too violently to hold the place of the strong guardian she was supposed to be. The Wynonna she was supposed to be to this child. 

Rachel asks her to sing. Sing, like the mockingjays. Like she used to, to release everyone home for the day. Waverly wakes up. She forces herself to stop shaking, to be strong for this child in her last moment.

She sings as sweetly as she used to, in that way Wynonna loved. In that way Wynonna used to beg her to sing after hours stuck in the fields. She thinks of her sister and she smiles. She smiles, down at Rachel, and it’s the last thing Rachel will see in this life.

“I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t move. Not right away. She sits here, with this child, for as long as she can take it. Nicole is at the back of her mind for the first time. This child. All she sees is this child. 

This child deserves to be remembered.

Waverly stands. She lays Rachel gently in the grass. She moves quickly, before the Union hovercraft can take her body away forever. She gathers every possible flower she can find in this place. Every color, every size. This is beyond a silly sketch. This is art. Waverly is going to make something of this tragedy, and the laughing audience stuffing their faces and placing bets are going to watch.

She observes the field of flowers she’s made. The purple and white popping against Rachel’s remains. Waverly raises her left hand, her three middle fingers pointing upward, saluting her, and she whistles. The four notes of Rachel’s creation echo in her head for hours. As she walks off. As she begins to track Nicole. For days to come, she knows it will haunt her mind.

Finally, she truly understands Wynonna’s hours of rants.

Nicole is a proper Career. Runs like an athlete, light on the balls of her feet. Her heels barely make an imprint in the mud. It’s a fairly easy trail to follow, not winding as much as Waverly feared. Nicole should be nearby—she’s a fast runner. 

Waverly finds her not by trail, but by sound. Not the cannon firing. Not the endless cursing. The crying.

She sits against a tree, feet away from the dead Sector 1 boy’s body. His face is severely disfigured, but Waverly doesn’t linger to inspect. She notices the trident in his legs and pieces together the rest before putting it away, at the back of her mind for another time. Maybe never, if she’s lucky. 

Waverly looks to Nicole, sitting against the tree. Hugging her knees, her head buried into the cocoon she’s created. Her left hand is clean. The right, all the way past the tattoo stretching across her forearm, is dark red. It really isn’t difficult to piece it all together, now. Waverly takes the trident from the boy’s legs before the Union hovercraft can take it forever.

She kneels next to Nicole, the trident in hand. For a moment the Career’s weapon makes her feel powerful. But not as powerful as standing next to the Career herself. 

Waverly can feel it. She knows, long before Nicole can say it. Long before Nicole collects herself and looks up at her, angry, no longer ready to goof around. She knows, long before Nicole takes the trident and stands, towering over her.

“I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill all those assholes. Are you with me, Waverly?”

Waverly stands, gripping the bow in her hand with all her strength. “I’m with you.”

Nicole looks at the dead Career, then back to Waverly. Determined. Changed. Angry. “Let’s go destroy their fucking food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Rachel, man. That scene killed me to write. Especially because I wrote it like two days after we met her,,, *crying noise*  
> Next time, we see Nicole and Waverly as they TEAR SOME SHIT UUUUPPP


	8. Chapter 8

Nicole is different. Nicole is angry, focused, determined. She walks fast. She grips her weapon with knuckles threatening to go pale. She walks fast, far too fast for Waverly to keep up with. She has failed her mission. She will not fail the other.

She silently escorts Waverly back into position, closer to the Cornucopia. To the stash waiting for them. Her head on a swivel. Waverly thinks to reach out, to say something, but she’s not much in the mood for conversation, either.

Waverly really liked that kid.

Nicole doesn’t speak until nightfall. In the meantime they sit, thinking. Waverly’s thoughts are doing violent dances and parries away from the child who died in her arms. She tries to think of something from back home, something with Wynonna, but they all end the same. They all end with Rachel’s life leaving her eyes, watching Waverly until they can no longer watch at all.

Lunar goggles were popular back home. Workers used them to keep going, well into the night. Nicole said, when she initially gained them, she thought they were sunglasses that didn’t work well. Rachel had laughed at her before explaining. She gives her only pair to Waverly and tells her to shoot straight. Then, without a word, without a goodbye, she leaves.

Same plan as before. Start a fire, lure the Careers away. Nicole says they patrol more at nighttime. One fire should be enough to leave the field clear. Waverly will shoot the mines and run out before anyone can blink. Waverly is determined to do so. She can feel Nicole’s rage, more intense now than when they were standing together. Resonating on the same frequency. Feeding into each other. She grips her bow tighter.

That asshole from Sector 1 was smiling.

When she puts on the lunar goggles, she thinks of Rachel. What it was like for her back home, working in those assembly lines. It makes Waverly wonder what it would’ve been like, if Rachel was in the Sector 5 trees. Singing to the birds. Watching the whole field, from a world above. In a way, Rachel was a little bird, too. 

The head start she gave to Nicole ends, and she moves closer to take position. There are crates of food, enough to feed dozens back home, tied and stacked together in the immediate vicinity of the Cornucopia. They use the inside of the golden horn as a camp. Apples sit freely, alone on one of the crates in the middle. That’s the way. One apple. Waverly laughs, thinking of her score. The apple Nicole stole from her in the Training Center cafeteria. The apples Nicole filled her room with.

This is it. The fire burns and leaves a perfect smoke trail. Champ and his buddy Jack run to it, weapons in hand, yelling and laughing and cheering on the hunt. 

Get closer, destroy the food, meet Nicole at the rendezvous they set nearby. Meet up, laugh at the Careers, and move closer to the lake where Champ lives. Kill Champ. Put the games in their favor. Easy enough, right?

She’s finally close enough, ready to plant the mines, just in time to see a girl, Mattie Perley from Sector 4, the lumbarjane no one has yet to see, run onto the scene. Mattie doesn’t stop. Waverly wants to warn her of the patrol pacing the horn, but she can’t give her position away. 

Mattie runs onto the scene like the patrol doesn’t exist. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t slow down. She’s quiet on her feet. She grabs whatever she can stuff into her backpack and scurries off in the same pattern, like a thief. The smile on her face tells Waverly everything she needs to know. She wonders if Mattie will be a bigger threat.

Waverly leaves the safety of the trees. No more hiding. She gets one shot. Dig a hole with her blade, shove a mine into the earth. Another onto the crate. Slap another one on the inside of the horn, where the patrol sits and drinks what she assumes is tea. Shoot the mine. Blow up everything in the camp the Careers hoard.

Her legs move as swiftly as Mattie. She takes a page from her book and doesn’t stop. Doesn’t hesitate. She uses the stack of crates as cover from the patrol’s point of view, and tosses a mine onto a sleeping bag behind him. She retreats behind the crates just as he turns around, swinging a spear in a bored fashion. The second mine meets the earth, poking halfway into the surface. Third on the crate. Waverly runs off.

“Hey!”

She doesn’t stop. At the last second, she activates the final mine in her possession with the knowledge from Rachel and throws it in the tribute’s direction. He doesn’t run. He throws his spear, mid-air, and detonates the mine before it’s at the target range.

When she wakes, she decides luck is a trickster. After the explosion successfully devours everything in its vicinity, still in range to set off the other mines she’s left, after she feels the impact and slams into a tree, losing the bow firmly grasped in her hands, Waverly decides luck is an asshole.

She isn’t sure how long she’s out, but apparently it was long enough for Champ to circle back. He runs across the field, identifying her and yelling and cursing. Rather, she assumes he’s cursing—her head pounds louder than the explosion, booming in her ears. Her ears—she feels blood spewing from her left but she can’t lift her heavy limbs to check. 

Champ is quick, running on the balls of his feet. Steeled and determined, calling her all sorts of names she can’t make out. She can barely blink without the pain tiring her. She wants to look up, find whatever hidden camera broadcasts her misery across Panem, and she wants to apologize. She wants to speak to Wynonna one last time, before this animal rips her to shreds for destroying his food and leaving him as hungry as her people back home. She wants to sing to Wynonna one last time. Watch the sunset in the woods, one last time. Tell Wynonna she understands her rants. Understands why she hates the Union with all the energy she can spare.

It isn’t a parachute that saves her. It’s a silver trident. It erupts from the forest with no flare, no show, nothing except urgency. Champ manages to see it in time and stops, swinging his chosen sword hard enough to deflect it. This takes most of his energy, and leaves him defenseless when Nicole follows the trident and tackles him to the ground. 

Waverly can’t watch them wrestle. She can’t sit here, slumped against this tree, and watch this happen. Nausea hits her when she suddenly tries to stand, but she fights it down. Later. She can be sick later. For now she needs to grab her bow and make one shot. Just one. 

She can’t do it. The bowstring is too strong for her. She can barely lift her own limbs. Her head pounds and pounds against her. She feels like yelling, but even that she can’t do. Someone yells for her to run. She tells them to shut up. 

Nicole has been reunited with her trident, but Champ is too strong for her. His sword is about to make contact. Waverly forces her limbs to drop the lead from her veins and pulls back an arrow, but it does not go far. In fact, she can barely see where it goes as the world begins to turn dark.

“Run! Run, damn it! Go!”

Nicole flips them, and Waverly feels better at the sight. Still, she blinks hard to clear the picture. To make sure it’s real and not false hope. 

“What are you doing? Go! Run!”

She’s heard those words before. From this person. This person, who protects her so aggressively. This person is paying too much attention to her. She needs to focus. She’ll be there. She’ll be at the camp. Waverly just needs to give her a reason to get there. 

Waverly turns and runs. 

-

It’s a mystery where Waverly wakes up. She is warmed and cloaked by high vegetation, and recognizes exactly none of her surroundings. There is no water, and she no longer hears the flowing stream she fell in love with. She never used this area as hunting grounds. 

Before she allows herself to freak out, to curse everything that happened the day previous—a day she dreaded from the start—she takes a moment to collect herself. Check her ear to see how much blood it spewed out. She realizes, as she rubs her fingers against it, she cannot hear. She snaps her fingers, right in the ear, and can’t pick up any of it. Somehow, she thinks, this is the least of her problems. And all these problems hit her at once.

There is no sign of Nicole. There will never be any sign of Rachel ever again. The worst of it hits her so hard, she springs to action and heads for the nearest tree, her notebook in hand. She realizes now, in clear daylight, it is morning. She missed last night’s recap. She has no idea who died and who lived last night. Champ could still be out there. 

Nicole could be dead.

Nicole could be dead. She slips and nearly falls out of the tree at that thought. Waverly has to assume the worst. She has to assume there is no Nicole to look for and center her focus on herself. 

Be selfish. Be selfish, like Wynonna wanted. Forget how nice it was to trust another human and not have her head on a paranoid swivel every waking second of the day. She feels sympathy for all the animals she and Wynonna hunted in their woods. She understands them, and suddenly she wants to stop hunting forever.

For a moment, she wonders if it would be easier to  _ stop _ , forever, to put an end to this madness. To die as herself before she goes mad in this place. Something tells her to keep going. The thought of Rachel and Nicole keeps her going. She will live, for them.

From the trees, she sees it. The massive lake lays still, unmoved by foolish games of foolish humans. She is significantly closer to it now than ever before. If she can make it here, she can stick to the trees. Let Champ tire himself out trying to get to her. Kill him and his friend, the biggest two players on the field. 

In her mind, it sounds easy enough. By the time she reaches the ground again, her boots moving with the most purpose they’ve moved, she realizes it’s the craziest plan she’s had all games. 

Sometimes crazy beats crazy, she decides, and presses onward.

There is a small pond she visits before continuing on her journey. She takes a moment to sketch it, for the sake of calming her rising nerves. Not a big deal, she’s only going to kill two Careers by herself! One of them can throw knives exceptionally well! Not a problem! She’ll totally win!

Two water bottles. Her original one from her Cornucopia haul, and a second one Nicole lifted for her. She’s a little paranoid about being hydrated. She drops both bottles when she stumbles upon someone by the water, laying in the tall grass surrounding. 

The steel bottles hit the rocks at her feet hard, and in one swift motion there’s an arrow to her bowstring. The figure in the grass comes to life, their hand outstretched for the lake. Waverly notices a small gleam and inspects, to find a water bottle the same as hers. She feels herself let up, as the figure looks up at her, staring lifelessly and miserably. Dehydrated. 

He waits for her to kill him, but she can’t let the arrow fly. She can’t kill the other tribute from Rachel’s town. Instead, she fills his bottle, hands it to him, takes what she came for, and leaves. She decides she’s perfectly okay with him stabbing her in the back, but he doesn’t. Waverly walks away freely, as if they’d never seen one another.

-

Too quiet. It’s eerie. It makes her jumpy, sitting here, cooking food, waiting around for something to happen when absolutely nothing is happening. She’s gotten too used to someone watching her back. Too used to conversation, and the blessed sound of people interacting positively. 

Waverly wonders if this is why Dolls was so concerned about her finding a team. She wonders how Dolls even won his games. Did he stick to himself the entire time? Did he wait the competition out? What even is his chosen weapon? Why didn’t she ask him more questions? Doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s alone. At the end of these games, she will be alone.

She understands why Wynonna told her to be selfish. By now she’s sketched pages and pages of them. The trident. The fish hooks. Rachel and snares. Nicole by the stream. Nicole with her fishing pole, quiet with the sunset. This was the only silence Waverly enjoyed: when Nicole, the destructive Career, would sit there and take a simple moment of peace in a place so terrible. She tries to do the same, but they haunt her. They all do.

Also, her ear really friggin’ hurts.

-

Waverly makes a camp and soaks in her own madness for hours. Can she really do this by herself? Who is left? What went on after she blacked out? Is Champ injured? Is there a possibility Nicole could’ve survived? Where was Jack, in that rabble? Did the Sector 3 boy, Sage, make it out okay? Will she be able to kill him, if need be? What about Perley, the smart girl from 4? Will she be able to kill her?

Will she be able to watch the life leave any of their eyes?

Waverly doesn’t move, not for hours. Night is setting in. She takes a moment to hunt, but beyond shooting a poor groosling and forcing it down, she doesn’t do much else. She has no grip on this competition. She has no idea what to expect, or what is left. She stares into the fire she’s made and hopes Champ will arrive and tell her everything before politely killing himself for her. Not likely, but she’s got to hold on to some kind of hope.

She takes the rest of the daylight and climbs up another tree to survey the land. She leaves her things below. These days she doesn’t sleep in the trees anymore. Maybe she’s given up, at this point.

The lake isn’t far off now, and she’s surprised the fire hasn’t brought Champ to her yet. She takes another moment to breathe in the night’s soft winds before returning to her camp, just in time to hear something rustling in the trees. It grows further, as if it’s retreating. 

Regardless, she grabs an arrow. She moves for it when she sees her bag is open. The water she’s stocked up, the sleeping bag, her extra knife, and some berries she found. Someone is playing her, and she is not in the mood.

She follows a trail of berries left behind, slowing down once she hears a cannon. One ear does, anyway. She jumps from the trees with her weapon aimed, and finds Mattie Perley, with the berries, dead on the forest floor. There are no wounds to her. 

Waverly sees it now, and she feels stupid. Beyond stupid. The inside of the berries are blood red, and she doesn’t recognize them. Poisonous, obviously. She keeps them, just in case. Maybe Champ will be dumb enough to accept a humble offering of berries, give it to his friend, and she’ll win the whole games.

Mattie is the only person who shows up on the recap that night. Waverly wants to ignore the tradition, keep her head down, but she can’t. She curses herself for the rest of the night for knowing Nicole’s status as nothing other than “unknown”.

When next Waverly wakes, early in the afternoon—she can hear Wynonna lecturing her—an announcement echoes through the arena. Would they be so kind as to tell Champ to eat some berries?

“Good afternoon, tributes of the 99 th Hunger Games,” the announcer says, like they’re all friends at the office and not all currently trying to kill one another for sport. “The time has come for us to reveal to you, the second modifier.”

_ Great, _ Waverly thinks, and she considers the entire arena will hunt her now on the Union’s orders, for her funeral to Rachel. For saving another tribute. For flashing the bird the Union hates at every possible opportunity.

“From this point forward, we will allow two victors, so long as they’re of the same sex. May the odds be ever in your favor, and may you bring honor to your homeland.” The anthem plays and the voice disappears. Waverly nearly collapses.

She rushes to her feet and begins to run to the lake. She’s the closest she’s ever been to it. If Champ’s here, waiting, Waverly will just have to risk it. 

If she’s alive, Nicole has to be there. They can go home. They can win! They can go home! Mattie was the only other girl left!

For a moment she loses her step. What if she is the only girl left, and all of the boys will be gunning for her? What if this  _ is _ a plot to snuff her out for the funeral?

No. She doesn’t care. She won’t stop searching for Nicole until she’s searched every inch of this arena. Nicole has to be at the lake. That, or she can beat it out of Champ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Face down and dying of thirst. Me, too, buddy.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support. The games are coming to a close here in these next few chapters. Then my version of Catching Fire, and Mockingjay.
> 
> Next time, Waverly searches for a certain someone…
> 
> Happy holidays!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early upload because Christmas. Nothing says holiday spirit like murderous young adults, am I right?  
> (Will likely do the same next week, too.)

Massive. The lake is massive from afar, but now Waverly questions whether it’s the right word. From afar, the lake was big. Pretty big. In person, up close, it is  _ massive _ . Frankly, it’s a monster. 

Nicole could be anywhere, so she stops by the water to keep her energy up. She ran for so long, without thinking. She questions if the water bottle is more valuable than her bow. When she trips over and drops it, first grabbing for her bow and not the water, the question answers itself instantly.

Someone groans from under the tall grass. Waverly isn’t really sure who she’s aiming at, but she doesn’t back down. This is a death match. Everyone here is a threat. 

Fortunately she managed to stumble across the one person here who would never dare pose a threat to her.

She drops the arrow, followed by the bow, and laughs in relief. Nicole Haught does the same, and they laugh for what feels like hours before anyone speaks.

“You’re alive. I knew you were alive!” Nicole says first, and Waverly can’t use the word relieved to properly express the satisfaction in her voice. “I was hoping you’d come to the lake. I couldn’t signal you.”

“I missed the recap,” Waverly tells her. “I didn’t know if you were—How did you get away? Is Champ still out there?”

“Did you hear the announcement?” Nicole asks, and Waverly impatiently motions her to answer the burning questions. 

All that goes away when Nicole sits up, leaning on her left arm. Her right dangles lifelessly against the grass, and Waverly feels suspicious.

“Nicole,” Waverly begins to ask, “how did you get away from Champ?” She begins to notice how sweaty Nicole is, in today’s cool weather. How her eyes dart away. Waverly has to force herself in front of Nicole to get her to look back. “Nicole.”

“Champ is still out there,” she says, looking away from Waverly. As if she’s ashamed of something. “Champ, Jack, Sage, you, and me. Three guys. Two girls.”

They’re slightly outnumbered, with formidable opponents. Waverly should’ve left Sage to dehydration. But she can’t focus on that right now. Nicole is side stepping the truth. The way she talks slow and withholds is killing Waverly. Nicole has never done this before. She spent days looking for Nicole. What is she so afraid of? Waverly doesn’t care if she killed Champ or not.

“We’re outnumbered. I managed my trident. Actually, he left it here with me.”

“Nicole. Come on.”

From the grass rises an angry, red, blistered slab of meat Waverly cannot consider an arm. No fragment of Nicole’s tattoo remains. The only marking across her right arm is a huge gash. 

Nicole explains, “I tried to keep it clean, but it  _ hurts,  _ you know? I haven’t eaten. Last time I ate, it was from Champ. He was mad. He put it all together; everything I was doing behind his back. He slashed my arm in our fight and burned my tattoo off. Then he left me here and told me to live. He wants me to be his last kill before he goes home.”

“Fuck, Nicole,” Waverly whispers. This is the only time she’s ever longed for Willa. She knows herbs, but Willa is the expert. Clearly—Waverly was about to blissfully eat a handful of poisoned berries.

This is horrifying. This is an injured member of her team, pulling them back. This is a gamble on her survival. This is the opposite of selfish. This is absolute  _ madness _ .

She doesn’t care.

“We’re going home, Nicole. We’re going to be victors. You’re going to buy a big fancy boat, okay? For you and that cat!”

Nicole laughs, straining through her pain. “I knew you were the victor the second you stepped on that stage. Win, Waverly. You have to win for Wynonna.”

Waverly helps her stand. “We can do this.”

Nicole looks at her. Steadying herself with her trident. “Let’s go kill some Careers.”

For a second, Waverly falls serious. “God, you smell awful.”

-

She feels childish. In the grand scheme of things, they’re both girls! A fellow girl, naked—it isn’t a big deal! Nicole makes a joke about skinny dipping in the lake and Waverly tells her to go to hell. She washes Nicole’s clothes frantically, and makes her stay in the water until the sun dries the garments she’s plastered against a flat rock.

“They’re just boobs, Waverly,” Nicole teases.

She’s prepared for the horrific arena obstacles, knives, swords, blood, genetically engineered wasps, giant bats, a crazy homicidal man child, and Doc’s terrible hats. Never in a million years would she imagine the pretty girl she’s been staring at the entire games would have her boobs out. Her eyes are closed until Nicole is clothed again. 

“You’re not allowed on my boat,” Nicole says. “Boobs only.”

Waverly considers calling it a day and eating the berries.

“Now, a little help, please?” Nicole waits, her dead arm dangling to the side. Her shirt waits, halfway on. The sleeve clings uncomfortably to Nicole’s burned skin, and Waverly has no choice but to cut the sleeve off. Nicole says something about Union fashion.

Waverly sits them in the grass, unloading her backpack. She still has the bandages. Two rolls—Nicole brought a spare back when there was a third party in their alliance. The burn ointment from Dolls. The berries. The rope. The extra knife. Sleeping bag. She inspects Nicole and decides to hold onto it. Nicole’s fever might call for it later. 

The gash from the sword is clearly infected, and Waverly tries to recall herbs to fix it. Of course she can’t, because Willa used to hoard the herbs book or hide it from her. For now she treats the burns and wraps the arm. Nicole clings desperately to humor, and again Waverly thinks of Wynonna. The trouble those two would get into . . .

Nicole says something about burns being a real boob and Waverly considers diving into the lake.

There is a hut Nicole has made, and she comments it’s the sloppiest thing she’s ever woven. Her huts back home in all her hiding spots were far superior. But moving in itself is a feat, and after a small while she cuts herself some slack. Waverly sees it in the way she steadies herself with her weapon, in the way she floated freely in the water. 

Waverly leaves her to rest under the grass walls she’s tied together. There’s enough space between strains to make the space breathable, and Waverly notes there’s enough room for the both of them. Nicole has chosen a spot at the top of a small rock formation, the perfect place for her to keep an eye out for incoming threats. 

Waverly shoots the first rabbit in sight and returns quickly. Nicole claims Champ won’t mess with them, not yet, but Waverly keeps a campfire short. The lake is some distance from the small hill they’re on now, but can be observed clearly. 

Waverly thinks of her pond. The alliance’s stream. Now their lake. She thinks of Nicole, post-victory, fishing on a boat of her own.

She pictures herself, sitting with Nicole. 

-

Waverly wakes with a start so sudden, she scares Nicole into jumping and hitting her head against a rock jutting into their hut. “I’m an idiot!” she yells, and Nicole blinks in confusion. She tells Nicole to wait in the hut and runs out, at top speed.

Waking up at the stream. Rachel. Sabre cats with trackerjacker venom. She should’ve known. Those leaves were familiar—Willa used them all the time!

She rushes back and approaches Nicole, not answering any of her many queries. Willa would call her stupid by now. She chews the leaves to a pulp, and unwraps Nicole’s arm. The burn blisters have gone down, significantly. She rushes Nicole down to the lake and washes out the arm before applying the leaves and wrapping it all over again. Nicole sits silently and watches. Trusting Waverly completely. 

“If this doesn’t do it, I don’t know what will,” Waverly finally says, and with it Nicole grins. She tells Nicole to return to the hut while she hunts, but Nicole wants to help. Waverly asks, “Ever been hunting?”

Later, Waverly learns, the loud way she stomps her feet against the mud, Nicole has never been hunting in her life. Nicole can be brutal. Nicole can be gentle. She can sit by a stream and soak in the afternoon air, peacefully one with nature. But not this. Not even close. It does satisfy Waverly’s there’s something she’s superior to a Career.

Waverly remembers Nicole failing the courses in the training gym. How upset she was. Waverly told her to be light on her feet then. Apparently Nicole is the one who lost her hearing. 

She fights a laugh as she stops them. “You’re walking way too loud. Gentle on your feet, okay?”

Nicole nods silently, recalling how Waverly told her silence is key. She looks adorably lost, and Waverly takes amusement in it. The big strong Career follows her on careful tip toes.

By the time they catch enough game to satisfy Waverly, Nicole is exhausted. It’s time to head back, anyway. Cook and check the wound. Nicole pretends she isn’t in extreme pain. Tries to laugh it off, but Waverly sees right through her. Waverly sees how scared she is. Sweating and panting by the time they make it back. Nicole says something about fire. Waverly pays the joke no mind.

The swelling has gone down, but it still looks terrible. Waverly doesn’t understand. It should look better than this. She chews up more leaves, washes the wound out here in the hut, and cooks. She wraps Nicole in the sleeping bag, because even next to a fire she claims she’s freezing. 

Nicole doesn’t joke the rest of the night. She doesn’t sleep, either. Waverly starts jotting down plans in her journal. There has to be  _ something.  _ She’s not letting Nicole die here. Champ won’t get the satisfaction. She has to live, for Rachel. The little girl she was willing to die for—she has to keep going, for her.

She has to keep going, because Waverly is selfish. She doesn’t want to do this alone. She doesn’t think she ever wanted to.

-

The morning brings more news. Nicole can barely move. Her arm shakes too hard to make an examination easy. The swelling is gone. The leaves should’ve worked, but the wound still looks terrible. Worse, even, like it’s picking and choosing what it wants to do. 

What Waverly would do to get a phone call from Willa right now.

She leaves on a quick hunt and cooks something for Nicole. She wants to make soup, but lacks something to make it in. Knowing Champ won’t find them until later makes her feel better and more lenient about using fire. Waverly doubts Sage will try to do anything. In training he kept to himself. No one noticed him, hardly, other than the fact he’s a giant. If anything, she can always pull the  _ Hey, wait, stop! I saved you!  _ card. Theoretically.

Waverly sits in the hut, sketching next to her sleeping co-victor-to-be, trying to take a moment to get lost. She imagines Nicole in a field, one of flowers. She isn’t injured, but laughing. Running freely. One of the flowers gets screwed up when the sudden sound of the Union anthem lays. Nicole wakes with it, too. Announcer, same greeting as last time.

“At sunset, this evening, we invite the remaining tributes to join us for a feast at the Cornucopia. For each of you, there is an item you desperately need. You won’t want to miss out on this opportunity. Happy feast, and may you bring honor to your homeland.”

Waverly pictures it now, the Sector 4 bag loaded with advanced Union medicines far stronger than a couple of leaves. 

What is so essential for Champ? A gun? A missile? How is the Career doing, starving for the first time in his life? What about Jack? Is he—

Nicole is forcing her pale self to her feet, clinging desperately to her trident for support. “Let’s head out,” she says, apparently forgetting how she’s been bedridden all day. 

Waverly can’t help but laugh. It’s ridiculous if Nicole thinks she’s about to run into an obvious ploy to pit the rest of them together. Nicole, paler than the snow back home and barely able to stand. “Sit down.”

“I’m serious. Don’t laugh at me.”

Waverly falls on the defensive. Channels her inner Wynonna. “I am, too.”

“We’re a team, Waverly. We do this together!”

It’s difficult to argue against. Waverly hates being alone. But if Nicole joins her, she’ll be alone forever. “Not this.”

“Waverly, there’s three of them. You know what Champ said to me? He said he was going to hunt you down first!” Nicole almost faints, barely steadying herself.

“If you go with me, he wins!”

Nicole forces herself back on her own feet, no support. Nicole is a pillar of strength. From day one, holding her emotions against the crowd watching her. Defeating all threats before her, facing them all head on. She nearly died and she spent all day, holding herself together. Goofing around. Telling jokes. Smiling. She’s here to protect. It’s what she does. 

But Waverly can’t let her. It’ll get her killed. It almost did, already. It’s Nicole’s turn in the games to sit down and be protected.

“You will hold me back, Nicole!” Waverly says again, and Nicole’s defense falls to realization. She starts to lose her stance for a moment before catching herself. “If I go, I have to watch you. Make sure you can stand, for one. Then we’re both dead. Is that what you want?”

This is how Waverly wins. She turns the guardian role on its head, makes Nicole consider a new face of it. She’ll slow Waverly down. It’s harsh, but it’s the truth. And Waverly’s too selfish to let Nicole die.

The trident falls, and Nicole surrenders. She’s furious, Waverly hopes with the circumstances and not with herself. She asks Waverly, seriously, to come back safe. Waverly leaves before either of them can change their mind.

Her brain isn’t allowed to turn back on until she reaches the edge of the trees once again. Once again, staring out into the Cornucopia. A part of Waverly thinks the whole place is wired to blow. 

She hesitates. She considers the risks. She knows there’s someone out there, waiting for her to run. Jack is out there, with his knives. Champ, his vendetta. Sage is a wildcard—could be anything. Maybe he wanted to die and Waverly damned him. Maybe he’s just an asshole, or desperate enough to be one. Desperate as her. She thinks of Nicole and takes the first leap, arrow on her bowstring at the ready.

Right on cue, the knife flies at her from the side. Waverly jumps from the way, but still suffers a cut to the back of her hand. The very hand she needs to pull an arrow back and shoot Jack as he runs to her, laughing as his long hair bounces and jumps behind him. 

Shouting, she shoots the arrow, but lacks the strength to get it anywhere real. No time to switch shooting arms. He throws two sets of knives at her feet. She dodges one, but the other scrapes her in a bad way and leaves her stumbling to the ground.

Nicole’s going to be so mad. Probably not as mad as Wynonna.

Jack punches her in the throat before she can fight back, and pins her down. Laughing with each cough that erupts from her. 

“You killed my friends,” he says, so calm that it scares Waverly further. “You and that traitor—oh, we’re going to kill you both. It’ll be so delicious.” He whispers in her face, and she struggles to escape.

He’s too strong. He’s a Career. He begins to rub the knife in his hands around Waverly’s face, deciding where to cut first. He stops at her lips.

“Where’s lover girl?” Waverly feels the sharpness on her lips. “I wouldn’t mind a reunion. She did all that for a little girl. I wish I saw her die.” 

He laughs and Waverly wants to strangle him with her bare hands. 

“Oh, I wish I saw the look on Haught’s face when that little girl died. Was it worth it? That little girl, was she worth it? Did you honestly think a small thing like her was going to win?” He laughs harder. “Honestly—”

Someone runs up and slams their fists into Jack, and Waverly can’t help but scream. He flies a foot or two back, and Waverly’s vision is taken by the massive boy from Rachel’s region. He doesn’t turn on Waverly. He’s too focused on Jack.

“You think that’s funny?” He demands, towering over Jack’s bruised face. “She was barely 18! You think that’s funny?”

Waverly is frightened when Jack begins to laugh, harder, louder. “Oh, Sage,” he says, “I wish I was there to do it myself!”

Sage makes sure Jack’s head is well acquainted with the ground, all the way until the cannon fires and promises him Jack’s head was appropriately beaten in. Jack’s laugh echoes in Waverly’s mind. 

How could someone be so sick? 

When Sage of Sector 3 turns and looks at her, she begins to panic all over again.

“Did you know her? Is that what he said?”

“Y-yes.” She forces herself to say the words. “Me and Nicole. Nicole, S-Sector 4. She looked after her. Made an alliance.”

He hands the bow back to her, and helps her back on her feet. She doesn’t feel completely safe, completely home free yet, but she shakes a lot less. 

Sage tells her, “You saved me. you gave me water. Nicole helped that sweet girl, Rachel. We’re even. Next time, I won’t be your hero.” 

He leaves without saying anything else, grabbing Jack’s bag on top of his own, and disappears into the trees.

Waverly grabs Sector 4’s bag, before hurriedly racing off. Her hand bleeds profusely, and Champ will be here any moment. She doesn’t even consider grabbing her own bag. She doesn’t even look at it.

-

By the time Waverly reaches the hut, her adrenaline reaches the end of its fuel. Her hand burns. She limps on the cut leg. The image of Sage beating Jack to death repeats in her mind, and she shakes so hard she drops the bag clutched in her hands twice. 

Nicole jumps at her defensively, accidentally, when Waverly enters the hut, and Waverly screams so loud Nicole has to hold her until she can collect herself.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.” Nicole says. “I heard a cannon. Are you okay?”

“Jack.” Waverly’s voice is a whisper. “Jack is dead.”

“Okay.” Nicole rubs her back, even after Waverly leaves her arms. “That’s good. Just Champ, now.”

And Sage. She used her only free pass with Sage, who is larger and stronger than Nicole. And far, far scarier.

“Hey, where’s—Where’s 5? And your hand—”

Looking at the bag in her hand wakes Waverly up. She parts from Nicole and lies, saying Champ must’ve taken it. He wants to kill Nicole last, after all, and Waverly first. Nicole believes her, and Waverly avoids the argument she’s too tired to have as she bandages her own wounds.

Nicole leaves her the honors of opening the bag. She perks up a bit thinking about it. She can properly treat Nicole. Make things a little better.

Waverly has to blink several times when she opens the bag, because the contents are cruel. Far too cruel, even for these games.

A huge roll of bandages. Strong sleep syrup from the Union. And third, a bone saw.

Immediately, Waverly drops the offensive item. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” she yells, and Nicole jumps with it. Waverly can’t help but pick up the bag and throw it down, hard against the rocks outside their shelter. She remains outside to scream to the sky, “Fuck you! Fuck all of you assholes!”

Nicole is quiet, apparently letting Waverly throw a Champ-style tantrum until she’s tired herself out. It works. Once Waverly’s voice burns with her rage, burns with all she can give, she falls into planning mode. The  _ there’s another way, let’s find it _ mode. Nicole is quick to shut down every plan, and it only feeds her anger.

“Sage is easy! Berries. I can follow Champ. I can shoot him in his sleep. We kill him first, before you get worse.”

“You’re not the only one who’s good at traps, Waverly. I know exactly where he is. It’ll take us days to get there, and the stuff he’s hoarded will screw us even further.”

“I’ll get him from the trees! I’ll go myself!”

“You wouldn’t recognize a Sector 4 trap. He got it from studying the lumberjack tributes and eavesdropping on their mentor. The trees aren’t any better—he knows you can climb.”

“I’m not cutting your fucking arm off, Nicole!”

“You have to, damn it! You can’t fight Champ by yourself! You don’t know him!”

“He’s just like any other animal.”

“So are you, apparently.” Nicole sighs. “Am I supposed to wait here like a damsel while you—”

Waverly steps closer, and Nicole nearly loses her balance. “You are not a hero!”

Towering over her, much like Sage, Nicole looks deep into Waverly. “You aren’t, either. You’re just a girl who needs to go home.”

“I’m not cutting your arm off.” 

A new wave washes over Waverly as her anger morphs into something else. She feels pathetic when her eyesight fogs with building water. 

“I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

The energy changes in the room. “Okay,” Nicole says, softer. “Okay. But you’re not charging after Champ. We can figure something out.”

Waverly Earp is selfish. She agrees, to keep Nicole safe. She stays here, in this hut, sitting quietly over dinner. The backpacks she owns, emptied out. 

Nicole sleeps, and Waverly plots. She can get them out of this. Nicole isn’t the only one with a plan. Nicole isn’t the only one who can tie knots. Nicole isn’t strong enough to keep her from her plans.

She takes her shirt off, covering Nicole’s hands, and ties the rope around a sturdy rock outside. Nicole doesn’t wake until she’s far into the trees. Waverly is selfish. She ignores Nicole’s screams and pleads easily. She grips her bow easily as she’s begged to return to the hut. 

She’s so set in her ways, so ready to end these games, an animal hunting an animal, she doesn’t notice it. Not until it grabs her by the leg and slams her into a tree. Not until she’s screaming again, screaming until her eyes water all over again, and her blood boils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cut a lot of content from this story. But the boob jokes… the boob jokes are forever, man
> 
> This is my version of Katniss and Peeta in the cave. With a Fish Girl TwistTM
> 
> Next time, we see what the hell is attacking Waverly and what the hell they’re going to do next.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING this chapter for gore. My bad...

It’s a mutt, altered like the wasps and the cats. 

It’s a hulking bear with piercing red eyes and more height than she can count. Fur buzzed down in this dry climate. Silver claws that gleam under the moon. It scratches and claws for her, but her bow serves as a protective shield. She screams, knowing this is it. She’s failed her mission. She’s failed. Rachel. Nicole. Wynonna.

Waverly pushes against the beast’s incoming claws. The two clashing like swords, but she can’t hold out much longer. She can’t fight this beast alone.

Someone else screams, and suddenly there’s a trident sticking out of the bear’s back, deep enough to turn it on the attacker. The attacker screams for its attention, louder than Waverly could hope to. She sees Nicole get floored by it, and jumps to her feet. 

Waverly empties three arrows into the beast before taking matters into her own hands. Nicole has Waverly’s back up knife, and slashes desperately at the bear’s face, hitting it before it can strike her. The trident remains lodged in its back.

Waverly wants this kill. This creature brought Nicole here. It screwed up her plans. She knows the Union sent it for her, for speaking out. For daring to curse them for damning 20 kids year by year. Waverly is selfish, too.

She rips the silver trident from its back and paints it a new color. This is no sketch, this is art. She paints, over and over. In and out, go the prongs. In. Out. In. Out. The paint splatters everywhere, inviting her to the picture. In. Out. In. Out. She becomes crazy with it. In. Out. In. Out. She creates a new art, another thing for the citizens of Union to gawk at. Anything for the Union! Anything for the president! She’ll paint as much as they want! All day! In! Out! In! Out!

The trident is taken from her, and she’s thrown to the ground. She lashes out, punching the naysayer that dares stop her creation. The naysayer that begs, “Okay, okay, you got him. Stop. Stop!” One arm struggles against her flailing limbs, until she tires herself out. She is held until the day, the night, the games hit her again. She feels the chest that pounds against her back, and she falls into it, allowing herself to steal a moment to relax. Stroking the arm around her torso.

“There you are,” the voice whispers in her ear. “There you are, Waverly.”

It’s a silent walk back to the cave. Nicole makes a run to the lake. She tells Waverly to rest. She tells Waverly she needs to rest. Waverly is too tired to argue.

Waverly wakes because something is shaking violently. It’s hours later, she assumes, and her tired brain leaves her to think it’s something outside. She lays down and listens. No, it’s close. It’s close, and it whimpers miserably. 

Waverly shoots awake, alert. 

At first it looks like Nicole is having a seizure, the way she shakes. Then Waverly sees it. Right arm is disfigured in a hideous way, bending almost all the way backwards. Red soaks through the bandage. Waverly wakes instantly. She can’t get Nicole’s attention. Nicole is too far, shaking and moving with a lost brain. A wounded animal. The ones Waverly couldn’t finish. 

Like Rachel.

Waverly was too late for Rachel. She won't be too late for Nicole. She won’t hesitate ever again. She dumps drops and drops of the sleep syrup on Nicole’s tongue and retrieves the rope. She wanted to throw the syrup out last night. Use it, even. She thinks herself foolish, and horribly, horribly selfish.

The bear cut through, all the way to the bone, in three different places before it broke her arm, Waverly guesses. She was so stupid. Why didn’t she just stay in the damn hut? She wanted to protect Nicole!

Bone saw gets no real attention from her. The rope acts as a secure marker. CUT HERE. She forces the saw down before she can hesitate ever again, not realizing how her back hurts from the fight until she begins to use real effort. Really throwing everything into it, fighting the bile threatening to escape her throat during this surgery. She looks up and completely away. 

The arm falls freely to the ground and Waverly forces her attention on bandaging what’s left of Nicole’s arm. Elbow to the shoulder. It’s all she will ever have now. 

Swiftly, Waverly buries the arm outside somewhere in the dirt. She keeps moving to distract herself from wanting to stop. To keep herself from hesitating. From selfishly doing the wrong thing.

Waverly finally stops when it begins to rain. Turns out she’s terrified of rain now. Rain, bears, bone saws. She throws the bone saw as far as possible before running into the hut, away from the rain. Sitting in between Nicole and the exit, in case the bear has a friend or the rain blows in here. At least she’s not thinking about Champ.

-

It terrifies her, and it makes her skin burn a bad memory, but the rain puts Waverly right down to sleep. A lullaby, in her ears. She wakes feeling well rested. Cautiously, fearfully, she turns to inspect Nicole. Sleeping peacefully. Waverly ignores the bruise under her eye. Not from the bear. Different animal.

Nicole doesn’t wake peacefully. Not like a lover in the morning—because they’re not lovers, they are not lovers—but the way someone so wounded would. Pained. Moving and slashing around. Pretending nothing’s wrong, because she’s obsessed with being the big strong one. 

She doesn’t scream or swear or freak out when she sees her limb is half now. She looks to Waverly and tells her, “Thank you.“

The action hasn’t totally cured her fever, hasn’t completely erased the damage done, but it’s bought her a significant amount of time. Not that Waverly intends to spend a whole vacation in this arena. But, for now she’s trapped in the hut, too scared to leave. The rain, and the fear there won’t be a living Nicole to return to. 

She lays next to Nicole and lets the rain song play. Waverly feels Nicole’s forehead and happily finds she’s not as warm as she was. Nothing, beside the usual warmth Nicole Haught radiates. Waverly implies she’s too frightened to make a food run, but they have enough leftovers to keep them for the morning. Nicole doesn’t mind. 

“Did you sleep okay?” she asks, and Waverly can't believe the person who just had a limb removed is so concerned for Waverly’s own health. She nods, and Nicole smiles before adding, “That’s good.”

Such a nice gesture, and yet Waverly feels a selfish need again. She closes her eyes. “Tell me more about Sector 4.”

Nicole is quiet long enough to panic her. Is this the right time to ask? Is she overstepping? She peeks an eye open and sees Nicole, thoughtful. “Can I tell you about the shark tooth?” she asks. 

“Yes. Of course.” Waverly lays on her side, a front row seat to watch Nicole Haught. She has a silly thought. If Nicole were a book, she’d read her until the pages were worn out. 

Waverly watches as Nicole closes her eyes, picturing and feeling the memory she’s willing to share. Waverly thinks to close hers as well, but all she desires right now is to lay here and stare.

“The water was so cold when we caught it.” Nicole begins, and Waverly sees a smile break on her. “It was winter. Early winter, and the winds were particularly brutal that day. I was under dressed. My dad was furious. He gave me his coat and lectured me. Told me how irresponsible I was. Then something started pulling my line. Something huge, so huge I needed his help reeling it in. We got stuck by the edge of the boat. The cold winds, the cold water, the waves shaking us all around. We pulled the line like crazy, and we saw it. A hammerhead shark. A hammerhead shark! They’re so rare, I wanted to throw it back. But he told me to keep reeling. We ate so much that night. I saved some for the cat, too. After the shark was taken care of, Dad stopped me. He pulled a tooth from it, and he was laughing. It was his gift, for a job well done.” Her eyes open, and Waverly studies those, too. “It’s the only real, nice moment I had with him.”

“Dads, am I right?” Waverly offers. Nicole looks at her, in a questioning way; it’s her turn for a story now. “Um, Ward was . . . difficult. It felt like he and Mama never stopped fighting, until the day they died.” She leaves out Michelle disappearing—died is easier. “He wasn’t—he wasn’t good to us. Always angry. Wasted our money on liquor. He refused to talk to me or acknowledge me. Only Willa, sometimes Wynonna. When he died in a thunderstorm, one that lit our barn on fire, we felt more relieved than anything else.”

Nicole looks at her with eyes wide, and she feels slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry, that’s not a good story, it’s—”

“Nonsense. I love hearing about you, Waverly.”

Here, it hits her. All of this, all of Nicole‘s grand planning and protecting, and she barely knows anything about Waverly. Waverly’s told her nothing. She’s played her cards quite close. 

Waverly blurts, suddenly, “You’re a really good person, Nicole.“ 

The Training Center smirk returns, and with it Waverly is taken out of this moment. Back to the rooftop, alongside Nicole. No one has lost a limb. No one fears the rain to death. They haven’t begun to fight for their lives, not yet. 

“I do have a certain charm,“ Nicole says. Her voice is quiet, a whisper. Waverly could listen to it for hours. 

She could, but a parachute lands at the door of the hut and interrupts them. 

“Yours or mine?” she asks, and Nicole shrugs. The giant FIVE on a note inside answers that.

It’s a feast. The giant feast, complete with silverware. Water, to tide them over for the night. Food, for the next few days if they space it right. She won’t. It’s important to let Nicole eat as much as possible. Dolls never sent her anything, and now he sends a complete meal, this far into the games. Prices on the simplest of things are significantly more expensive now than the beginning of the games. This is a message, then. Her and Nicole are key.

The romance angle. Nicole‘s interview with Atlas. The citizens are asking for it, then. People are rooting for them, not Champ.

Waverly looks back on Nicole, protective and planning Nicole, and she smiles. “Let’s eat.”

-

They spend today at the lake. Waverly sets every trap in her arsenal around the perimeter, and posts Nicole by the lake to fish. 

This is the most important nutrition will be—they need to keep their strength up if they plan to kill Champ. 

Waverly sees Nicole making fish hooks with her one hand and her teeth, and suddenly she understands how Nicole freed herself. That’s a conflict of her own—she’s happy Nicole saved her, but she’s not happy she had to chop Nicole’s arm off. They could’ve saved it.

She has a small heart attack when she sees Nicole laying on her back, and sprints over to the lake. Nicole tells her, “This is my second favorite thing about fishing.”

“You’re making me nervous,” Waverly admits. Nicole laughs at that.

“I don’t think anyone can make you do anything.” Yet, Nicole sits up. The rocks she sits on are raised high, and her feet dangle over the edge. “Sit a minute. You’re super tense and it’s ruining my vibe.”

Waverly frowns. “Oh, your poor vibe. I have every right to be tense, you know. We’ve got—”

Nicole suddenly falls forward into the lake, and Waverly is having a mini heart attack all over again. It grows astronomically when Nicole doesn’t resurface. The bow goes flying as Waverly dives in. 

She hasn’t swam, really swam in years. There was a creek in the woods, a fair distance from the fence. Wynonna let them explore when she was off one day. This is nothing similar. Not her splashing around with her sister. This is her, holding on to the one thing she has.

Her fear is the reason she curses Nicole out when they both resurface, because this was a stupid joke Nicole pulled to get her  _ relax. _

“You’re not supposed to get your arm wet! That’s not funny! I thought you were dying, Nicole!”

Nicole falls serious at that last part, her laughter dying instantly. She doesn’t say it, but Waverly knows she wants to. She  _ wants  _ to, desperately, but she’s too nice to say it; too Nicole to say it. Too Nicole to mention how she felt when Waverly ran off. Instead she says, “The water is nice, isn’t it?”

Nicole keeps herself afloat by gripping the cave the high rocks have created, with her hand and one foot. Waverly holds onto her, floating close by. Nicole’s shark tooth is lifeless among the waves they create. Her hair is a field of its own. Her shoulder Waverly hangs on is strong, a perfect representation of Nicole Haught’s person. She feels calm.

“It’s really nice,” Waverly agrees. Her eyes fall on Nicole’s lips, and for a brief second she sees Nicole’s eyes trail to hers. Quieter, she whispers, “It’s perfect, actually.”

The cannon sounding shoots everything down. They both look to the sky, then back on one another.

“Sage?” Nicole asks.

“Or Champ?” Waverly asks.

Regardless, the plan continues. They spend the day bulking up on food until nightfall, when the recap reveals Sage of Sector 3 is dead. It’s officially them versus Champ Hardy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fish girl,,,


	11. Chapter 11

Midday Nicole takes over. She knows Champ. Trained with him. Grew up with him. Same Career minds. She knows what to do. They eat all the catch in the morning, load up extras in Waverly’s bag, and head out. He’s across the arena, but Nicole knows he’s on his way. He promised. They wait at the lake, until finally, they see him, running.

Wearing . . . armor?

Waverly’s arrows bounce right off it. When Champ is close enough, Nicole steps in front of Waverly, a stone wall, and prepares for the showdown. 

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps running, for the Cornucopia. Nicole’s eyes follow him. Waverly‘s stay on the trees. He was running from something, even wearing full armor. No doubt this was his feast gift.

She hears the rustling, but isn’t fully prepared when the monsters erupt from the trees. Giant wolves, running, alternating all fours and twos, like humans. Standing up, they tower much taller than Sage.

Nicole moves faster than her. They ditch the bag and dive into the lake. She puts her head above the surface after a long couple minutes submerged, and suddenly she’s pulling Waverly out of the water. Waverly doesn’t understand. There’s nothing here. The mutts have passed them by. The trees—

The trees still rustle. Shake like crazy, in timed intervals.  _ One two three, shake. _ It starts far away, before growing closer. The end of the lake, closer to outside their hut. Closer to where they sit. They abandon the lake as a whole and follow Champ.

The Gamemakers want them all together. One final showdown for the people. Waverly doesn’t realize it until they slow, until the thing chasing them speeds up and she’s electrocuted. Nicole grabs her fully by the shoulder and throws her onto her feet, half dragging her as Waverly finally pieces together the arena bounds is shrinking. 

It stops when they see the mutts again, and slowly grows back to its full size. They can turn back, if they want, but the mutts will chase them. 

Their presence takes a load off Champ as he tries to climb up the Cornucopia. The inside of the golden horn is still scarred black with burn marks from the mines Rachel rewired. They have to get there, too. They look at one another for strength, before running into the chaos.

It’s a no man’s land. They try to keep quiet, move quick, but they were spotted too long ago to help them now. Briefly, Waverly considers running back to the trees. But Nicole can’t climb, and if she could she wouldn’t be nearly as fast.

Luckily Nicole is fast on her feet. One of the creatures tackles Waverly. Her bow keeps it from biting into her, but she closes her eyes and screams regardless. As do her freshly-electrocuted muscles. The mutt is strong. Fueled by a rage she hopes she never knows. She wonders if there’s anything in there. She fears if she looks into its eyes, she’ll hesitate.

The creature is thrown off of her, and another comes running by. Waverly shoots it through the throat, but it continues, slower. Slow enough for her to watch Nicole hesitate. 

Nicole eyes one of the creatures too closely and asks, “Rachel?” before she’s thrown back, her trident in another direction. She once again uses her amputated arm to hold off against the mutt’s snapping fangs. Waverly grabs the weapon, and gains all of Nicole’s strength with it. Slashing everything that moves until she’s united with Nicole again.

They move for the Cornucopia faster. Champ is fighting mutts on his own, trying to do the same. Nicole boosts Waverly up the second they’re close enough. They both lose balance climbing when a creature jumps on Nicole’s back and bites into her shoulders. Waverly desperately grips the Cornucopia, moving faster, so she can shoot them away. 

Two join in, biting into Nicole’s left leg and forcing a scream out of her so terrible Waverly gains enough to force herself to proper balance and shoot them all down. 

Nicole‘s leg looks worse than her arm did. Waverly shouts until Nicole forces herself up, limping miserably. Pulling Nicole to the top with all her strength, yanking her by the shoulders until she’s over and safe. A creature jumps, the one that bit into Nicole’s shoulders, and Waverly sees it. She nearly drops Nicole because of it. 

The mutt is made to look exactly like Rachel. 

All these wolf hybrids look similar to the dead tributes. Waverly pulls harder until they fumble and collapse at the top of the horn, Nicole panting on top of her. Waverly has a hand rubbing Nicole’s back, feeling how hard she breathes. 

Champ continues to scream below, and the mutts scratch and claw at the metal horn. The pair manages to lay here, quiet, for all the time they have left in the world; for as long as they can.

All the way until Champ appears on the top of the horn and grabs Nicole by the throat, ready to throw her over. Cursing her one last time. “If I die, you die with me!”

This is the fastest shot Waverly makes in her life. Right through the hands gripping Nicole. Nicole kicks at his ankle, until he loses balance and topples over the horn and to the hungry angry mutts below. Waverly looks over the edge, just to be sure. 

There is Hardy James, being ravaged by mutts. She leaves them to their jobs and goes back to hers, examining Nicole‘s leg. It looks worse than her arm did after the bear. Far, far worse. 

Nicole reveals she’s managed to hold onto the rope, and Waverly takes her own shirt off. Tourniquet. She’ll save this one. Champ will die and she’ll save Nicole’s leg, unlike her arm. They will go home. 

They lay together, panting, taking a moment to catch their breath and let the anxiety leave them. But the way Champ screams below is too much. It only poisons the moment, bouncing it around these arena walls. They won’t know the relief of their victory until it ends. 

Nicole looks at her. “Please kill him.” 

Waverly only agrees because she’s sick of these games and sick of this endless suffering. She peeks over the ledge, and finds a horrific slaughter room version of Champ. He begs, and she obliges. The moment the cannon sounds, the mutts disappear into the trees. 

They did it! They killed Champ! They should be celebrating, cheering, jumping for joy, but neither can. Waverly is lost in what Champ has become. The strongest predator is reduced to a red and black puddle of blood and exposed bones. She can barely make out his face as the hovercraft carries him away. One should be arriving for them, soon.

Moments pass, and there’s nothing. No sign of a hovercraft, and no announcement. Is there a secret tribute they forgot?

Either way, there's no time to wait. Their things are at the lake. Waverly manages to slide Nicole off the Cornucopia, and the two take a long hour to walk back. Nicole can’t apply an ounce of pressure to her left leg before it completely gives out. 

What are these people waiting for? Are they trying to see if Nicole survives? One more game, after they’ve been promised victory?

They make it to the lake, and silence keeps. She knows Nicole wants to ask, but they have other concerns. Waverly wants to curse and throw the trident at the arena walls. They were promised, so where the hell is the hovercraft? 

Nicole‘s leg looks terrible. Yet she’s so calm right now, pulling herself up with one arm. Another problem—she’s still sick from her right arm. She sits, quiet, staring at her toes. Waverly prays for a classic Nicole joke right now, but there’s nothing. She tries to think of one herself, but there’s nothing.

Then, Nicole whispers, “We did it.”

“We did it,” Waverly repeats, just as soft. They should be celebrating, jumping for joy, dancing,  _ We lived! We won!  _ but they can’t. It feels wrong, for several reasons starting with Rachel and ending with watching Champ get eaten half to death. 

Where is the hovercraft?

Waverly looks out on the lake one more time. It’s a small blessing the craft hasn’t arrived yet. Genuinely, she loves this lake. She loves spending time here, so close to the water. The pond. At the stream with Rachel. If the hovercraft never arrives, she doesn’t mind making a life here with Nicole.

“Nicole, I—”

The Union anthem interrupts, and again the announcer greets them. She hopes the delay is because the ship meant for them is fighting high winds today. But that’s just too stupidly optimistic. “We have made the decision to revoke the second modification for two victors in this year’s games.”

May you bring honor to your fucking homeland.

Happy Hunger Games you stupid naïve assholes.

Waverly’s heart races as Nicole hurries to her feet, trident in hand. No way. It can’t end like this. It can’t end in betrayal. Nicole wouldn’t.

Nicole doesn’t. She turns to the lake and throws her trident right into the water with her remaining hand. It makes Waverly’s heart break harder. 

“No,” Waverly whispers, and Nicole begins to tear up. “No, no, no.”

“Close your eyes and shoot,” Nicole encourages, and the sweetness of her voice is a cruelty far beyond what these games can cook up.

“Nicole—”

“Shoot fast.” The tear traveling down Nicole’s face threatens to stop Waverly’s heart, right here. “Come on.”

“Since when do you play into their games, Nicole? The loud mouthed Career from 4? Where is she?”

Nicole shakes now, not from sickness. Falling painfully serious, she tells Waverly, “She wants you to go home. She’s willing to do anything to get you home.”

“Why? Why, Nicole? Why don’t you—”

“Because I love you, Waverly! Damn it, I love you, doesn’t that count for something? Come on, please!”

No. This isn’t it. This isn’t how this ends. These games are over, as promised. Hardy James is dead. Two victors of the same sex remain. 

Waverly snaps her bowstring with an arrowhead and throws it into the lake, to drown far out of reach with the trident. Quicker, she attempts to throw the entire quiver, but Nicole tackles her. They wrestle in the grass. They curse. Worst of all, in front of thousands, they cry their eyes out.

Nicole isn’t who she used to be. She isn’t strong as she was, and she’s on limited time. She’s ill. Waverly easily knees her in her ripped up leg and flips the odds ever in her favor, pinning Nicole to the ground. Nicole screams and begs for her to stop. Waverly can’t. She won’t give them anything else. She won’t let them take anything else.

She sits here, fighting to steady herself on Nicole’s bucking waist, screaming against Nicole’s screams, using two hands to pin down one arm. It isn’t her strength that stops them; the shaking, the cursing, the crying, begging, screaming, the unjust rage of it all.

“I love you too! Doesn’t  _ that _ count for something, Nicole?”

A final tear escapes Nicole, and her panting slows to a stop. Waverly no longer grips her wrist, because now they’re gripping one another’s hands. Her right on Nicole’s left as she hovers over her, staring down; Nicole staring up. 

“That counts for everything,” Nicole whispers again. “What do we do? We can’t stay here forever.”

They can try. Waverly is perfectly okay with staying here forever, sitting by the lake. But Nicole’s leg . . . Nicole’s paling face . . .

“Nicole, do you trust me?”

Suddenly, there it is. There’s the girl from the Training Center again, smiling and confident. “You cut my arm off. Of course I trust you.”

“There’s a book I read. A million times, actually.” Waverly reaches for the arrows scattered all behind her. “From a long, long time ago. These two people fall in love, but their families are enemies. They can’t be together, so one fakes their death. The other believes it to be true, and he kills himself. The girl learns of this and takes her life, too. I like to think they live on, in the after life, beyond death—”

“Together,” Nicole finishes.

“Together,” Waverly agrees.

There’s a line from the story that echoes in Waverly’s mind. 

_ My bounty is as boundless as the sea,  _

_ My love as deep; the more I give to thee, _

_ The more I have, for both are infinite. _

“On three.” One last smirk, “See you on the other side, Earp.”

“I’ll see you, Haught.”

An arrow from below aims for a throat above; above, an arrow aims below. The berries were lost in the lake. This will have to do. If the Union wants a bloodbath, they’ll give them a bloodbath they’ll never forget.

One. 

The arrows are gripped, firmly.

Two.

The arrows are pulled back, preparing to plunge forward. There is a mutual, unison breath.

Three.

The arrows prepare, speeding up, before—

“Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, your victors of the 99th Hunger Games!”

The arrows fall after barely piercing flesh. They see it, they finally see the hovercraft, and Waverly helps Nicole stand. The hovercraft gets a glimpse before the focus falls on one another again. Nicole looks as dumbstruck as Waverly feels. They tricked the Union. They got what they wanted. They trapped the Union in their own games.

The Union’s going to be furious. Played the fool, in front of all of Panem. The games haven’t ended, Waverly knows. They’ve begun, right now.

Waverly leans up and kisses Nicole, in front of all of Panem, in front of the Union, in front of the president himself. In front of the Union, the president, Panem, she won. And she’ll keep winning, so long as she has Nicole’s strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just,,,, I love these two,,,, so much,,,
> 
> Double upload, just ‘cause I like ya. Happy New Year’s. Your support keeps me going on these things, and I look forward to another year of putting words on the page. Back to the normal Friday uploads next week.
> 
> Next time, we see the post-games healing and interviews. It’s going to be a long journey ahead...


	12. Chapter 12

They keep Waverly from Nicole, and Waverly does not go about it easy. The moment their boots hit the hovercraft’s interior, they dragged Nicole off. A team of doctors block her form from Waverly. She screamed and fought and begged, but they kept them separate. Days have passed and she hasn’t seen Nicole since.

Waverly has to be sedated, several times. Several times, she’s tried to escape. She watches as the cuts from Jack’s knives heal. Union medicine has the power to completely repair her deaf ear. She tries to count the days, but she knows her count is inaccurate. She knows there’s a space between, gaps forming between the moments she’s awake and asleep. She asks about Nicole, but no one is so kind as to answer. Usual fucking Union goons. 

Waverly steals her own patient file, and sees comparisons of her body from when she began these games to when she ended them. She’s lost weight; she looks like a ghost of the real Waverly Earp.

One day she wakes and finds none of the usual nurses. The tube in her arm is gone. A white and red uniform waits for her on a table across the room. Her arena uniform. The show is about to resume.

Fish and his prep team are the only people she sees now. Where Fish is quiet, his assistants gush about the games. The great things Waverly did. How smart she was. How romantic she and Nicole are, how heartbreaking it was to watch them on that lake. She wants to win some silence by testing the scissors that trim her hair, the same way Alex did, but she doesn’t. She sits and pretends no one is annoying her half to death with nonsense. Apparently Fish does the same.

He prepares her for a three hour post-games interview. On stage, she and Nicole will watch a full and detailed recap of the 99 th Hunger Games with Atlas. She knows Champ would sit in that seat and cheer every time a body hit the floor. She thinks she might go ill right there, right on camera. That’ll be something for them to talk about for a while. These people can be entertained by anything—she’s sure they’ll get a kick out of it.

No Nicole. Not a word on her. It’s all a part of the games. Fish tells her they’ll reunite on stage, after all this time apart, for everyone to see. Because everyone loved watching them. Everyone loved their romance play out, so now it belongs to everyone in the Union. 

Fish mentions they were considering altering Waverly’s zombie-like appearance surgically, but Dolls fought tooth and nail to leave her be. 

The next time she sees Dolls, underneath the stage where she will be elevated up, much like the beginning of the games, she immediately pulls him into a hug. It’s her and Wynonna, in those catacombs, all over again. She feels like she’ll need to say goodbye again. A new game is starting, one she knows will be far more difficult than those she’s faced already.

Dolls knows it, too. In her ear, he whispers something. A warning. “The president and the Union are furious with what you did. Play the romance angle to death. You were so in love, you couldn’t control your actions, got it?” 

Then he separates from her like he’s said nothing, and Fish’s assistants are swooning and talking about how sweet Dolls is. They aren’t wrong, but Waverly hates to hear them talking about her mentor like they know him. 

Waverly wears heels she can’t stand. The assistants have braided her thinned out hair, the way Wynonna used to, and she can’t help but feel invaded. Her dress is based in the red color of the Union, with diagonal stripes of white going twice down. It’s the first thing she sees looking back at her when she reaches the stage level. 

Nicole Haught, alive, standing in red pants and a white shirt covered by a checkered white and red jacket. Her one hand holds a cane, and she leans into it. Waverly ignores her increased need for balance and runs across the stage to Nicole’s form.

Here, she sees it. A new prosthetic, pale white, has been screwed into what was formerly Nicole’s right arm. They took more of it off, as well. Barely the tip of the elbow is all that’s left. They’ve also cut Nicole’s hair short, and the color looks lighter. Like they’ve dyed it, too.

Something tells her to look down. Waverly doesn’t want to, but she has to. She has to know. The monsters behind her cheer and clap and cheer their names, and it only makes Waverly angrier. She has to know.

She sees pale poking out from Nicole’s left leg.

They took Nicole’s leg.

The next thing she knows, she and Nicole are being moved to sit on a long couch before the host Atlas, continuing his show with tears in his eyes because he’s really, really gotten to know the two in the past few weeks. They’re best friends! No one better can be on this stage with him! They’re perfectly delightful! No one else deserved to win!

She wonders if it was good or bad Rachel died in that arena.

There’s nothing from Nicole. When Atlas talks them up, she doesn’t respond. Doesn’t say anything witty or annoyingly confident. No smirk. No wink. She’s still as a statue and says absolutely nothing. Nicole Haught is a ghost as well. 

Waverly holds her hand, mostly to remind herself this is all real. This is all really happening. They’re sitting on this stage, with Atlas. People cheer their names. The people of the Union don’t care they’ve been tricked—they love Nicole and Waverly. They love the love Nicole and Waverly have for one another. 

But it’s not okay. Something is wrong. They fixed Waverly’s hearing from complete disability, but they couldn’t save Nicole’s leg? Her arm? The people in charge are not as convinced as the people who cheer.

Nicole squeezes her hand in response, tight.

Atlas brags about their stats, and Nicole’s grip only gets worse. Waverly killed one tribute, “Champ” Hardy James. They count the tribute who speared the mine as a suicide. Nicole Haught had the highest kill count out of anyone in the games, for a total of five. Nicole Haught took five lives in the games. They laugh about it like having the highest score is the greatest achievement in the world.

The recap begins where they began, under the arena. Waverly fights giant bats and uses two sticks as a weapon to save her life. She and Alex stand on that stage together, terrified. Alex cries. She looks absolutely ill. Her eyes dart around in a frenzy and she pants so hard, the action of simply watching it spikes her anxiety. Then Atlas calls it exciting and suddenly she’s back in the moment on stage, frustrated again.

Nicole doesn’t wake disoriented. She’s strong, together, neutral. She was herself right from the beginning. She wakes in a small pool atop a rocky platform. First she observes where she is, then what she needs to do. Registering she’ll be fighting for her life from this point onward. She takes it infinitely better than Waverly did.

Creatures sound and growl below, in the vast field of water surrounding her. She exits the pond, her head on a swivel, and grabs for the trident waiting for her. The weapon she chooses time and time again waits for her.

Nicole is a Career. She knows what’s to come and spots the stage, lit up with torches. Waiting for her. She jumps into the water below and runs, her speed hindered by the effort of wading through waters up to her knees. But she persists. She doesn’t slow, not even when the first mutt jumps at her. She stops briefly to observe the fact it’s a giant, hissing frog, before promptly killing it.

They pile on her, the water moving violently with it. She pushes harder, faster for the stage, neutral and together. She kills the last of the retreating herd, right there on stage. Panting, observing, never dropping her guard. Her hair is soaking wet and her tattoo gains a new coating of red from another creature. Her Sector’s escort appears and happily introduces her to the crowd watching from the safety of their homes, cheering their lazy heads off from their couches.

The opening ceremonies. Waverly remembers meeting Nicole for the first time. Watching Nicole steal a sugar cube from a horse. Winking at her, because she knew Waverly was staring. She always knows.

When Waverly twirls on the recap, she feels Nicole’s hand loosen its death grip. She examines her face. Neutral. Silent. And a new one: tired. Nicole is tired. It’s something they have in common.

The crowd goes insane when Nicole says it in the interview. When she tells everyone she is in love with Waverly Earp. Star crossed lovers. Romeo and Juliet sit before them now, holding hands on a couch and watching a lovely recap of the times they fought with everything they had to live another day. What a wonderful program this all is. Apparently cameras caught them on the roof, and silent footage of them sitting plays long enough to make the people go even crazier.

Atlas says there’s trouble in paradise when the countdown begins. Nicole’s wink. Waverly starting too late and losing her head start. Separating, playing the games apart. Atlas wonders out loud what went wrong. Why they didn’t stick together, right there. They omitted footage of Waverly breaking things off with Nicole on the roof. He pieces together what he thinks happened, as time passes. What he thinks is the truth, and Waverly finally comes to appreciate the fact Atlas is always on the subject’s side in interviews. He’s building an excellent defense against the wrath of the Union that awaits her and Nicole. He believes they separated because the Careers were too dangerous for Waverly. Being around Champ was too dangerous for Waverly. It was Nicole’s plan all along, to keep her safe. Waverly wonders if a small part of this might be true.

He has nothing to say about Rachel. The footage of Nicole and Rachel meeting up for their secret plans. Nicole bringing her food and supplies, tucking her in at night when the temperature dropped too low. Rachel stealing the deactivated mines while the Careers weren’t looking, digging as fast as she could. Nicole tricks her fellow Careers, slitting another Career’s throat when no one else is looking. Together, they take down the tributes, one by one. 

Waverly sees herself, in her hallucinogenic frenzy, try to chew the leaves up and apply them. Rachel figures it out. She grabs the leaves before Nicole takes them out. Nicole was bitten, too, but she pushed on. She carries Waverly like nothing is wrong with her. She carries Rachel on her back when they run into the stream, pushing against the violent tides to keep all of them afloat. She hits her back on a stone and nearly blacks out, but she keeps pushing. For Waverly and Rachel, she keeps pushing. 

Atlas doesn’t say anything again until Nicole beats the Sector 1 tribute to death. Some nonsense about how she’d do anything to protect Waverly. He underplays Rachel’s existence. They omit the footage of Waverly’s funeral for the youngest tribute, and she finds her grip increasing on Nicole’s hand, now. Nicole rubs her thumb on the back of her hand, reminding her to stay calm. Stay neutral. She rubs her thumb back in acknowledgement.

Waverly watches the spear pierce the mine she threw. The Cornucopia gains a lengthy scorch mark. The tribute is taken by his own action, and she is blown to the ground. She sees it all now. She sees how everything happened. How Nicole fought with everything she had. She sees the ink tattooed into Nicole’s skin burn off, after suffering a huge, bloody slash. She sees Champ drag Nicole all the way to the lake, placing her against a dry stone and telling her she will die last. She will be his victory kill.

The bear attack. Nicole uses her teeth to untie the rope, unknotting it and chewing at it until she wrangles herself free, bending her wrists all around until she can grab her trident and run. She runs and runs, at her top speed, faster than Waverly’s ever seen her run before, and she doesn’t hesitate to throw her weapon into the bear. It snaps her burnt arm in two, but she doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t back down. She fights and fights, slashing everywhere rapidly, screaming into the creature’s face. Nicole is on her last legs and she gives everything she can to save Waverly’s life. 

They see it later: Sage’s mangled body. A net wrapped with razor wire grabs him by the feet and slices him into several pieces. He didn’t even see it coming. Sage was careful. He walked slowly, looked all around, kept his guard up. He was still taken. Nicole was right, and Waverly feels like the dumbest asshole in the world for tying her down and running off.

She can’t pay attention to the rest of the games. Waverly thinks too hard to focus. She replays the scene, over and over. Sage, getting mauled by razors. The bear. She stabbed into the bear until Nicole had to force her off. Nicole had to calm her down and bring her back to this plane, because she’d gone somewhere else in the moment. Waverly had become the animal she was trying to slaughter, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing relentlessly. She sees Champ’s mangled body on screen and she nearly jumps out of her seat. Atlas cheers like they’ve done something heroic, something amazing. She isn’t sure whose hand squeezes tighter, hers or Nicole’s.

The footage doesn’t stop here. This hellish replay of everything Waverly wants to forget continues. Nicole and Waverly are the focus. Not because they won. Because they’ve created the perfect romantic plot to keep the crowd happy and cheering and crying and screaming their names. It doesn’t end at the lake. Waverly knows it will never, ever end, not as long as these games exist. She and Nicole will be their show, their entertainment, until the end of time.

Hidden cameras were present in the hovercraft. They captured Waverly making a scene when she and Nicole were separated. She cringes at her pathetic cries, her constant begging for Nicole to stay by her side. The footage follows the doctors as they frantically run around the room, trying to treat Nicole’s leg. They barely look at it before deciding it must come off. The head doctor is insistent about it. Aggressively so. Suspiciously so.

Nicole looks away the longer it goes on. The further they invade her privacy, showing the brief physical therapy she went through to be able to stand on stage. Therapists tell her, multiple times, Waverly would want to see her walking. She must be strong for Waverly. She must push on for Waverly. At one point she rips the leg off and throws it at them. They don’t know Waverly. They can’t speak for her. If the roles were reversed, Waverly would’ve done the same thing.

Why take her leg? Waverly doesn’t understand it. They repaired a complete disability of her hearing, easily. All they had to do was clean out the wounds and stitch Nicole up. They didn’t have to take the entire leg off—why would they do that?

It doesn’t take long for the answer to reveal itself to her. President Clootie enters the stage to present them with the victor’s crown. Just one. Maybe he’ll make them fight to the death over it.

He doesn’t. He snaps the crown in half and hands it to them. Nicole looks horribly ill when she accepts hers.

The answer reveals itself right here, with this crown. With the disdainful expression in the president’s eye as he hands the crown over to the second victor. President Clootie never breaks eye contact from under his shadowing hat, not from the moment the crown leaves his hand until Waverly accepts it and he walks away. 

Waverly was the instigator. Nicole submitted to the Union’s rules, but she did not. She picked up the arrows. She made the plans, made the action. Nicole’s leg didn’t have to go, and they both know it. If he can do this to Nicole, what’ll he do to her sisters?

There is one final question from Atlas before they’re allowed to run off this horrible stage forever. It feels like it was written by Clootie himself. “What was going through your mind, when you picked up those arrows? Why do it at all?”

She finds her team on stage. Fish and his assistants. Doc Holliday and his terribly ugly hat. Xavier Dolls, nodding at her. Xavier Dolls, hugging her before she was sent up here. Nicole isn’t the only one with a plan. Waverly isn’t the only one with a plan. This is her team. They’re on her side forever, and she’ll hold on to them no matter what Clootie thinks he can do. No matter how he tries to hurt them, she will hold them forever.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.”

The crowd loves this most of all. Atlas loses his damn mind. He has them stand and declares, “Ladies and gentlemen, your victors of the 99 th Hunger Games!”

She doesn’t feel like a victor at all. She still feels like a player, in the arena. Dolls nods at her again, and she knows.

This is only getting started.

-

Two trains at the station. Two sets of mentors, escorts, and tributes. Dolls knows Randy Nedley. They talk the way old friends would. Doc knows Nicole’s escort, who apparently dislikes him the way she walks away when he opens his mouth. He takes his hat off and follows her, saying something about the good old days.

Nicole and Waverly stand, as together as ever, in their own little universe. Nicole looks over the Capital City, the red and white buildings painted. The way the town divides makes the colors divide across the land in a diagonal fashion. They’ve screwed their own colors, their own property, into Nicole’s body now. She tried to take the arm off backstage after the interview but her designer told her it has to stay. She cursed him for the sleeveless jacket he made her wear.

She hasn’t talked since then, and the longer Waverly doesn’t hear her voice, the more miserable she feels. She could’ve saved the arm. All she had to do was stay in the hut. She gave the Union the idea for the leg, the moment she accepted the bone saw. 

Waverly doesn’t regret saving them both. But she’s not happy about the consequences, either. The moment she steps on that train, the new games begin. She’s taken the fight directly to the president, and the president is no lazy Union citizen.

She wants to stay here forever, with Nicole. There have never been any games with Nicole. None that didn’t involve protection. Survival. Being together.

She wants to be with Nicole forever.

The mentors and escorts call for them, but they don’t move. Waverly stares out into the town below and wonders what any of the people below would do if they were in this situation, right now. Someone grabs her hand and she stops. She feels warmth and calm, and she knows it’s Nicole’s. Doesn’t have to look to be sure; she  _ knows. _

It’s not the same Nicole she started with. That winking Career, charming the competition for the sake of protecting a little girl she barely knew. To protect a loner she barely knew. She’s quiet. She’s so far away, Waverly fears she’ll never run fast enough to catch up to her. Nicole has changed, and it makes Waverly want to stay here even more. She wants to stay by her side forever, because, selfishly, she knows she’s going to change, too.

Nicole wraps Waverly in her one arm, keeping the offensive Union replacement far away, and she holds her for as long as she can. Waverly holds Nicole like she’ll never see her again.

In her ear, Nicole whispers, “Thank you.” Waverly isn’t sure what for. 

Nicole should hate her. She couldn’t save Rachel, like she wanted. She couldn’t save Nicole’s arm. In fact, she made it much worse. She let the Union take Nicole’s leg. Nicole wanted to sacrifice herself, and Waverly forced her back into these games. Waverly started the games by rejecting Nicole for protecting her. How’s that for irony?

She’s so god damn selfish.

She steals one last kiss from Nicole. Waverly doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, but she knows for certain she’ll regret leaving here without a goodbye and a hug. She needs more. She’s greedy, and she needs more. She needs something to take with her into the unknown.

When Nicole’s hand cups the back of her head, she knows Nicole is in the same field. She knows, until the end of time, Nicole will always be in the same field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes the first Hunger Games. We’re jumping right into the Catching Fire section next. I stuck pretty close to the source so far. Catching Fire’s a little more unique. Mockingjay even more so. 
> 
> I deeply appreciate all your comments and support on this project. Got some great scenes coming up. Thank you for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post yesterday shhhhhhh

6 MONTHS LATER.

The tea has gone cold. Hours ago, maybe. Time has always passed differently here. 

She doesn’t notice the sting of the cold. The wind pricking at her ears. The snow melting into a puddle below the fire she'd left alive for some amount of time. She could sit here, forever. It’s quiet.

Waverly sits in her woods with her sister, warm under the blanket Wynonna carried for them. They sit together under a tree. No one has hunted today, and neither is entirely motivated to. It’s a hobby, now, not a necessity.

When Wynonna nudges her, she wants to whine. Tell her she wants to stay here, forever. She’s not ready to go home yet. The world beyond these trees is too much. Too loud. Too busy. She doesn’t realize her sister has left and returned until Wynonna is shaking her legs with her foot.

“Come on, baby girl. Didn’t you hear me?”

Waverly blinks and pretends not to be too spooked. Wynonna went off for some amount of time and managed to catch an entire groosling. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize. But we need to head back into town, so wake up, kid.”

Waverly pours out the rest of her tea, kills the fire, and follows her sister to their horse outside the powered down fence. She watches as Wynonna ties the groosling to the saddlebags before joining her for the ride. Wynonna doesn’t push the horse, keeping them at a moderate pace. Waverly holds the moment close. She holds her sister close, as the gentle rocking of the ride pulls her to sleep. Wynonna wakes her when they reach the farmer’s market.

All the same faces, but they all look at Waverly differently. For six months now, they’ve all looked at her and Wynonna differently. It’s true, they’re both different now. but it feels wrong. It makes her feel out of place. Like she shouldn’t be here, in the place she’s spent so many years.

Wynonna chats with the Head Peacekeeper of the region, who waits by the Old Woman’s stand. The groosling is handed over and the Old Woman forces money Wynonna doesn't want into her palms. She passes it along to some kids that run by. 

Head Peacekeeper Cryderman thanks Wynonna for the meat. He’s getting sick of the same rat-rabbit stew. He’s a nice enough man. Doesn’t give them any trouble. In fact, he and Wynonna have joked around here and there.

Waverly doesn’t chat. She’s not much known for her voice these days. She walks around the market, purchasing everything she possibly can. The local economy and all that. She has too much money to know what to do with, anyway. 

Her victory brings the entire Sector Parcel Day, where they’ll gain more food drops than they’ve ever seen. Though anything above zero is quite a large number on its own. She returns to the Old Woman and buys three books she’s already read forty times each. Wynonna tells Cryderman to have a decent evening, and they’re off on the horse again.

Waverly looks back on the people of the market one more time. The people she’s known for years. The ones that worked together with Wynonna to send her a journal in the previous games, so that Waverly might keep her sanity. They look at her so differently, it pains her. She doesn’t want their pity. Her misery isn’t any of their business.

It’s a long ride back to the homestead. Their new home stands in the Victor’s Village, with acres of land stretching for miles. Dolls is somewhere in there, the closest house a few roads down from the Earps. Empty houses are everywhere else. Waverly invested what she hoped would be most of her money into livestock, crops, new fences, new barns, but the damned funds just kept coming. She’s set for life. She can party all night and do absolutely nothing all day, and it’s the complete opposite of everything she’s wanted. She doesn’t need the Union’s help. If the Union wants to reward her, they’ll clean up her hometown so that everyone might live like this. So that no one ever has to fight tooth and nail just to get through the day with a bare minimum of food.

At the stables, she helps load in one of three of their horses with Wynonna. Saddle off. A carrot for the hard work today, and a pat on the neck. Wynonna passes by Willa’s hateful horse and makes the ugliest face she can at the creature until it scoffs and looks away.

“Staring is rude, you asshole,” she says on the way out. The horse exhales again, almost to argue, and Waverly feels to laugh. She gives her own personal horse some attention before following her sister out.

A whole feast waits them inside. The fresh produce from the fields, the meat of animals slaughtered just days before, cooked and seasoned with whatever Willa decided to experiment with tonight. Wynonna says all the time she can’t stand how good a cook their sister is. Probably because she wants to hate Willa. Waverly can hate Willa despite how good a cook is. Willa could have a giant nuke pointed at the president’s house right now, and Waverly would still hate her. She nominated Waverly for the Hunger Games. She sent her to her death. Waverly has every right to take her dinner for the night and leave the kitchen without a word.

She picks one of many chairs on the porch and fights the cold seeping into her bones. Every night, the same thing. The house is so large, she could easily buy more furniture and make a private dinner quarters for herself, but she doesn’t want to. Somehow this is more offensive to Willa. Somehow this hurts Willa deeper, and she finds satisfaction in it.

Willa Earp nominated her to die. She still can’t believe it. Sisters fight. That’s how siblings work. But Waverly never thought Willa hated her enough to send her to her death. Seems a little extreme. What did Waverly ever do to her, anyway? 

All their lives, it’s been the same thing. This hate without reason. Stealing the herbs books when Waverly tried to read it. Hiding her toys, as kids. Misplacing her books until Wynonna located them. Buying a goat, even though Waverly can’t digest the milk the animal produces. She doesn’t get it. She just doesn’t get it.

“You are very thoughtful today, baby girl.”

Waverly almost falls out of her seat. She didn’t hear the door, never mind see Wynonna sit next to her. 

Chairs litter their porch. Willa still treats people, happy to help Waverly spend the money she doesn’t want on herbs and fancy Union medicines. That’s the other annoying thing. Willa has the capacity to be a good person. She treats anyone who falls on their doorstep. Feeds any patient who is her for starvation. But she’d nominate her own sister for the Hunger Games. Waverly does. Not. Get it.

“I’m thoughtful every day,” Waverly defends. 

Despite her tone she inches closer to the sister she loves the most where they share the porch swing. Patients know not to touch it. It belongs to Waverly and Wynonna. 

Wynonna has arrived with another blanket and wraps them both in the warmth. Snowflakes dance on the porch steps below them. 

“I’m sorry,” Waverly says again. “I’m not trying to ignore you.”

“You were in there for 40 days, Waverly. Never apologize. What you  _ should _ be sorry about is not bringing a blanket.” Wynonna laughs. “Seriously, kid, you’re freezing. You have Raynaud’s Disease—try to bundle up, okay? Or, I don’t know, eat inside?”

Waverly doesn’t respond to that, because she would rather freeze than sit in there with Willa. Might be colder inside, anyway. 

Wynonna throws an arm around her and keeps her close. Warm. Waverly tries hard not to zone out, but there’s a million things on her mind.

“Are you excited to see her again?”

Waverly’s mind moves faster. It’s been six months. The victory tour for the 99 th Hunger Games is about to begin. She’s about to see Nicole Haught for the first time since they parted at the train station. 

Everything has changed since then, it feels like. She has her own farm now! Property! A horse! And then, six months from now, there’s a fifty percent chance she’ll be picked to mentor the 100 th Hunger Games for the next set of unfortunate suckers. It’s her turn to watch generations of Sector 5 tributes go to their deaths like cannon fodder. The Union will never, ever let her forget she was a tribute.

Nicole can’t be taking it well. Waverly remembers how distant she was when they parted. 

But that’s the bright side to all of this. Waverly doesn’t have to go through any of this alone. Neither does Nicole. Standing on those stages, staring into the families of those who died in the games—neither will have to do it alone. Nicole killed a lot of people. Waverly knows the hardest people to look into will be the Valdez family. She dreads it just thinking about it. The fact they’re starting in Sector 3 doesn’t help, either.

They already sent Waverly the schedule. A long and boring itinerary, sharing dinners with region officials, pretending they’re all friends. A new region in the Sectors every day. They’ll begin in 3, then move up until they’ve ended in their own homes. Personally, Waverly cannot wait to end up back in her own home again.

“I will take your very loud thoughts as a soft maybe,” Wynonna jokes. Waverly snaps out of her trance again.

Waverly corrects, “Take it as a yes. I haven’t talked to her since we said goodbye. She doesn’t answer my calls or my letters.”

Wynonna’s hand shifts around, and Waverly now realizes she’s brought a beer out onto the porch with her. Now that she can afford liquor, Wynonna drinks more than ever. Luckily, not as much as their father ever did. 

She offers Waverly some, and Waverly refuses. “I know you hate following the news—”

“It’s all Union propag—”

“But there’s something you should know. I didn’t want to tell you because every time I mention the news you make the exact face you’re making right now.”

Waverly is unsure of the face she’s making, but now she swears to make it as aggressively as she can.

“Look, it’s about Nicole.”

Just kidding; her expression changes.

“I want to warn you. She’s changed. They’re always talking about the parties she’s throwing in her house. Older Sector 4 victors, and the shadiest house guests you can imagine. Can you guess what that means?”

“She’s trying to distract herself?” She’s trying to forget the things she saw and did.

“Bingo. That’s my observation, anyway. You’re the expert. You’re the one who’s smooched her.”

Waverly makes a face again. “Like you haven’t been  _ smooching _ Dolls. I know you sneak away to his house! What’re you two doing in there, huh? He is so much older than you—”

The beer bottle remains upside down for a good while before Wynonna declares, “I’ve said too much. It’s your bed time. Vamoose!”

“I’m 22! I don’t have a bedtime!”

Wynonna stands and begins to retreat into the house. “You’re a butt, is what you are.”

-

All these years, Wynonna Earp has been labeled a lazy no one around town. Swindling Peacekeepers into buying her drinks. Slacking off in the fields. All these years, no one really read Wynonna Earp correctly. Taking loose change from Peacekeepers. Staying at the fields longer than anyone else until the real work with the livestock was over with. Setting the best snares Waverly ever saw in her life. She’s given everything into caring for Waverly, and now Waverly’s set them for life with more money then they can handle.

Despite the sitting around and waiting for the animals to do the work for her, either in the woods or on the fields, Wynonna has made herself into a busybody. She needs something to do, at all times. It’s the first reason Waverly sunk all her money into the land they purchased. Wynonna gets up at her old work time and does the same things she did before, on her own terms. And they actually get to keep all the food they work so hard on. What a concept.

Waverly spends her mornings in the woods. Following her own schedule. Wynonna usually joins her at some point in the day, or Waverly will return to the farm and hang out on the porch. Hard to tell the owner of the property what schedules to follow. It’s a lot easier to boss Willa around, and Waverly thinks Wynonna takes a deep joy in it.

Today is different. Waverly returns to the house at the appropriate time following the victory tour’s schedule. Wynonna isn’t in the fields. Not sleeping in the barn somewhere. She’s standing on the porch, and she loudly asks Waverly how her walk was. Waverly doesn’t go on walks. And Wynonna doesn’t stand on the porch. Something is wrong.

Union officials are already in the house, one hour before they’re meant to be here. Willa looks stiff. Wynonna is on high alert, and Waverly can feel the energy so strongly she does the same. She takes Wynonna’s lead, the same way she would do in the woods. Right now they are two hunters, against an unknown predator.

Only the predator is not unknown. In fact, he is very well known. He’s the most popular person in all of Panem.

In Waverly’s vast library, the biggest room in the two-story house she’s moved her sisters into, among the giant collection she’s invested in, stands him. President Clootie waits for her, in her own library. He stands here, violating one of her few peaceful spaces on earth.

“Good morning, Ms. Earp,” he says.

Waverly doesn’t fake a smile. She doesn’t even try to respond. Just stands still, dumbfounded. He doesn’t greet victors in person before the tour. He never even leaves the Capital City. 

This is not good. This is the worst possible thing to happen. She thinks about all the officials in the house, right now. She won’t be able to save her sisters. They don’t even have weapons—all of them are in the woods. She made the president look stupid and now he’s here to gain back the upper hand on this seesaw of terror.

“We both have a full schedule ahead,” he continues. There’s a suffocating stench of roses and blood that offends her senses. He looks and moves like a snake around her library, cold and calculating. Without rush. Staring deep into her eyes so as not to lose her place. “We both have much work to do. Let’s agree to save some time and tell each other the truth, yes?”

Waverly has to clear her dry throat before she can properly agree, “S-sure.”

“Excellent.” Despite his joy, he doesn’t smile any wider. Just the small and creepy grin she assumes he’s attempting to come off as friendly with. His hats are always so wide, but she wishes it was bigger so she didn’t have to stare at his lips. “I do not doubt your excitement to see Nicole Haught. You pulled quite the trick to bring her home, too, didn’t you?”

There it is. This is the part where he threatens to poison her whole family if she doesn’t do whatever stupid thing it is he wants.

“You two certainly bought my Head Gamemaker. Such a shame Juan Carlo had a bad run in with some berries.”

She looked further into those berries that killed Mattie. Nighttlock. Union-altered berries—poisonous. Clootie killed the Head Gamemaker because he let them live.

“You know who you did not buy?” 

Finally, right here, President Clootie drops the act and frowns. He steps closer, and Waverly is paralyzed by the act. 

“You did not buy me. I am not sold on an act of love. I am sold on an act of defiance.”

“You took her leg.” It’s the wrong word to use. All of them are. He just called Waverly defiant, and her grand gesture to prove otherwise was to be defiant.

“Doesn’t it sting when people defy your wishes?”

Waverly can sit here all day and curse him, but she has a very important and very busy schedule to attend to. “What do you want from me? What are you going to do?”

“Nicole Haught is making a name for herself. I am certain you know all about it. I am certain you’ve seen the photos that prove your grand, romantic saving grace false. Your Nicole Haught, running around her Sector, proving loyal and true for everyone to see? A drunken dunce, doing what is considered cheating on the romance you’ve built for yourself?”

This is what Wynonna was trying to warn her about. Nicole’s house parties, raging all night. Kissing random strangers. Killing the star crossed lovers theme that kept them alive.

President Clootie changes tone for a moment. “It would be a shame if you were to fail in keeping your ruse. If something were to happen to you or your sister in those woods . . . a stray beast . . . a runaway hovercraft, hijacked from Union possession . . .”

She wonders in a frenzy how the hell he knows she and Wynonna sneak away to the woods. “Must be a fragile system, if it can be taken down so easily by a kiss.”

He frowns. “It is.”

Good to know such a fragile system is the system holding them all in place. Good thing it hasn’t caused anyone to starve yet!

“The girl on fire. Mr. Dickenson was not wrong. All it takes is a small spark. A small fire—oh, that’s even better. If I kill you, Waverly Earp, the riots across the Sectors will only worsen. The riots we’ve worked these six months to extinguish from the flames you’ve made and fanned around. Do you want to do something? I will tell you what to do.”

She expects him to say something about hating Nicole. Hate Nicole with everything she has. Tell the world she’s a cheater and a liar and leave her out to dry. It’s the worst punishment she can think of.

“I want you to convince them. I want you to convince  _ me,  _ that what happened that day was a blind act of love. You are two young and very stupid adults, who fell in love in a terrible, scary place. It was an act of love, and not an act of rebellion. I want you to wrangle in the drunk you’ve fought so hard to save, and I want you to put an end to her anti-Union rhetoric. Do you understand me, Waverly Earp?”

She clenches her jaw so hard she swears she cracks a tooth. Soundlessly, she nods and agrees to his terms. She will reel in Nicole and sober her up, get her on board with this plan. Stop the hooking up with strangers.

“Excellent.” The creepy, falsely inviting smile returns to the snake man’s face. “You have a lovely tour, now, Ms. Earp.”

Downstairs, Waverly watches as he bids farewell to her sisters, taking all his goons with him. Willa thinks nothing of it. She wouldn’t care, anyway. Wynonna immediately runs up the stairs and takes Waverly back into the library with a million questions.

“It’s fine,” Waverly lies. “He visits every tribute before the tour, every year. They just don’t televise it.”

Wynonna Earp knows her better than anyone else in the world. She doesn’t buy it. But she has no time to argue, because their next set of guests arrive and interrupt everything. 

Fish’s assistants talk her head off about this year’s upcoming games, even though the event is still six months away. She’ll get to mentor during a Quarter Quell, if she’s lucky. 

If she’s lucky. The last Quell winner currently soaks in 25 years of trauma in his house not far from her land, where he often forgets to turn on the lights. Or eat. Or get out of bed.

It gets easier when Fish arrives. He thanks Waverly for the new coloring technique for his design sketches. Fish answers his phone. Nicole doesn’t. She’s too busy throwing raging parties, apparently. 

Every victor picks up some sort of hobby in all their free time. Waverly figured Nicole would buy that boat she talked about, not throw all-nighters in her Victor’s Village’s houseboat. Plans change, she guesses.

Doc is present in the house with another colorful suit and a hat tall but not as wide as Clootie’s. Obnoxious either way. She becomes frustrated when he starts flirting with Wynonna, and further agitated when her sister flirts back. He tries to boss everyone around and keep things on time like a good Union escort, but he keeps stopping to flirt with her sister. Then Waverly realizes the only reason Wynonna is giving him the time of day is to throw off the schedule the Union carefully crafted, and suddenly this is the best entertainment she’s ever gotten.

Waverly is deemed Union appropriate two hours behind schedule, and she finds the time to laugh with her sister before she departs on the train. This includes some teasing about Dolls as he smiles while passing them by.

“Look, he’s hot, okay?” Wynonna defends. “Stay safe out there, you little dummy. I’ll make sure to eat all your snacks while you’re out.”

Waverly stops on the first step of the train. “Please don’t eat my chocolates.”

“Oh, I’m going to eat all your fucking chocolates, kid.”

-

They won’t bother to film Nicole and Waverly reuniting, and Waverly immediately begins this tour with heightened nerves. They filmed her walking out of her house. Taking a fairy tale carriage out to the train station. Saying goodbye to her sister. What will Clootie think of this? She needs to be selling the romance angle. How can she do that if she and Nicole are depriving the people of the actual romance? It’s like he’s setting her up for failure.

Though there is a part of her happy to hear this information. It means she’ll get to reunite with Nicole in private. No cameras. Just them. No show to put on. Just honesty.

Wynonna pinned the mockingjay pin onto her shirt before they split up. Waverly fiddles with it until the train finally stops far enough out west. Watching the prairies of her homelands, the people working in the field as Peacekeepers watch over them. She watches the window the entire trip, and she’s upset to see all Union properties and no water whatsoever. She’s on her feet the moment the train stops. All things considered, she’s still excited to see Nicole.

The escort Kate enters the train, and Doc begins to tell her how lovely she looks. She tells him to go to hell and greets Dolls kindly before standing in her own corner of the cabin. Dolls helps Nicole’s disabled mentor up the train steps. An older gentleman, far older than Dolls. Randy Nedley. According to what Waverly’s heard from Dolls, he’s one of the toughest tributes to ever have competed. Even now he looks solid. Despite the horrendous bright orange shirt he wears, plastered with prints of blue cartoony trees all over.

The third and most important to Waverly is slow to enter the train. Nedley has to poke his head out the door and call her in. For some reason, Kate begins to go on a tirade of apologies. Nicole’s ability to be present. Nicole’s behavior. It all threatens the excitement Waverly feels. She notices there aren’t any cameras outside, either. Why aren’t they filming Nicole?

Nicole answers the question for her. The second Waverly sees her drag her feet onto the train, sucking down a flask at breakneck speeds, she understands. She gives Nicole a weighted, “Hey!” but there’s nothing. Nicole walks past all of them, a dead expression on her face, drinking from the flask. Slouched posture. Buttons on her formal shirt undone. Dragging her feet all the way as she crosses down the hall into one of the rooms without a word or so much as a sound. Kate says something about manners, and Doc agrees with her. For the sake of not hating Doc, Waverly assumes it’s because he’s trying to get on Kate’s good side.

“We’re still working on her,” Kate says. “She’ll be camera ready by the time we start in the morning.”

This isn’t true. Waverly knows it. Nicole won’t be ready for a while, and it’s all the time she doesn’t have if she’s going to convince President Clootie on this tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the entire victory tour. It’s suuuuuper long, but it’s definitely one of my personal favorites.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING for drug addiction in this chapter. Gettin' real personal here, folks.

One detail Waverly learned about Dolls, long before they became neighbors forever, is the fact he doesn’t sleep at night. Only the day. Half of her assumes its insomnia. The other half, her victor half, assumes it’s something games-related. Sometimes Wynonna will sneak over early in the morning, just before he goes to bed, and drops off some fresh produce for him. For purely neighborly purposes. Nothing else. Just being neighborly.

Dolls’s terrible sleep schedule makes for perfect timing to tell him the fact the president of Panem was in her home yesterday and threatened basically everyone she’s ever known if she can’t forge a jaw-dropping romance for the people to gawk at with stars in their eyes.

“If that’s what Clootie said,” her mentor begins to advise, “then you’d better go ahead and follow it. Well.”

Not helpful. No shit she’s going to follow it to the letter!

She doesn’t know what she was looking for. Dolls to fix it? Someone to let her rant about how stressed she is, maybe? Maybe Dolls would pull a sniper rifle out of his back pocket and tell her to stand clear while he shoots the president down for good. But it can’t be that easy, can it?

“Just help me through this one last thing, Dolls,” she asks of him. “Please? I need you.”

He goes into full and unforgivable mentor mode. “It’s not just this one thing, Waverly. You’re smart, I know you know that. This is it; you won the games, and you’re going to keep fighting in games every year. One game after the next. It never stops. The Union owns you now, from the second you woke up on that stake. They own you, they own Nicole, and they own whatever relationship you two are expected to make on Clootie’s orders. You will keep coming back as mentors, and the people will keep expecting to see you, together. You’re probably going to end up marrying Nicole, if that’s what they want to see.”

It’s one of the biggest freedoms in her home, marriage. The option to marry or not marry is a big decision in someone’s life, not one out of obligation. And here she is, obligated to marry someone. Probably have kids, too, for the Union to stare at as well. 

Marrying Nicole isn’t such a bad thing. She doesn’t think she’ll mind that. Marrying Nicole for the sake of entertaining strangers that cheered her death is another. 

Fish’s team of strangers spends several minutes talking about her hair. How much they love her braid. Her eye color. Her jawline, whatever that means. Then they turn on their heels and say it’s a shame Waverly won’t undergo alterations. Perhaps because the alterations Waverly’s seen these people go through makes them look freakish. One of the assistants has dyed her skin, permanently, bright pink. Another has dark green hair. She cannot imagine the laughter from her sister if she showed up at the homestead with something as obnoxious as green hair. Or something as horrid as Doc’s sky-high hats.

They have her dressed and ready to go on time, but there’s a delay. Waverly sits with Dolls and Nedley long after breakfast has finished. She watches the two victors talk Union escorts, making fun of a disastrous display from some Union representative back in the day. Doc smokes somewhere in a corner, alternating between his cigarette and a whiskey glass on the table next to him. 

Waverly sits with tea that has gone cold. She doesn’t realize what the hold up is until she hears the arguing down the hall. Nedley sighs and raises to his feet. Both are prosthetics, and she wonders why the games hate the limbs of Sector 4 so much.

Nedley mumbles something about Nicole’s arm on the way out of the room, and Waverly can’t help but investigate. After all, she has been ordered to make Nicole her highest business by none other than the president himself.

In the hall stands Nicole, dressed in a red and white suit that matches Waverly’s red and white dress, the Union’s contrasting dark blood and bright pale colors. A cigarette matching Doc’s hangs out of her mouth as she argues with Kate, and Waverly can see Kate has exceeded beyond her patience. Nedley is different. Nedley was Nicole’s mentor. Nedley isn’t from the Union, and Nicole immediately ceases her arguing when he arrives on the scene. 

“I’m not wearing the stupid thing. I don’t need it,” Nicole pleads with him. He shakes his head in a fatherly mentor way.

“Just do it for now. It’s what they want you to wear, Nicole,” he says.

“They can go to hell!” Nicole turns to Kate again and declares, “Tell your people they can all go to hell!”

Kate sighs, “Really, all of this over an arm.”

Not good. The comment sets Nicole off further. Kate will never understand. Kate will never have to go to the games. Kate will never know anyone who has to go to the games. Kate will never have to have her limb chopped off for her survival.

The whole thing blows up into a big mess. The cigarette falls from Nicole’s lips when she begins to raise her voice at Kate, all the way until Kate leaves the scene and declares Nicole can get on the Union’s bad side all she wants—it’s her death. Nedley grabs the arm Nicole has already thrown down the hall and drags her into her room like a moody teen. 

Waverly doesn’t blame her. The arm is Union property. If she didn’t need the leg, Waverly is sure she’d be throwing that out, too. Waverly doesn’t eavesdrop on this. It feels too personal, like she’s crossing a boundary. Sure, she was the one who took the limb off. But Nicole is the one who has to live with it. Nicole’s the one who’s spent the last six months in physical therapy, changing her entire life.

Randy Nedley is the only other person on the train who understands that, and soon Nicole is standing outside the train with Waverly, ready to entertain the populace. They make her carry a decorated cane as well, though Nicole has no real use for it. Waverly just wishes she didn’t smell like a chimney. 

She isn’t around for long. Another train arrives on the scene and cameras are adjusted as Nicole and her team enter. The Union is going to film Nicole and Waverly “reuniting”. A staged version of last night’s drunken emptiness. They’re going to make it look like Waverly and Nicole traveled separately from their homes, all the way here to the automobiles region of Sector 3. They’re going to exit their trains and pretend this is the first time they’ve seen one another since the recap interview six months ago, after they won. They’re going to pretend one of them isn’t hungover and totally dead inside, and that the other one has all the charm in the universe because apparently she’s going to have to carry this tour if she wants her sisters to be okay.

Safe to say Waverly is slightly stressed.

There’s everything but dramatic music and slow-mo—for now. Waverly assumes they’ll add all that nonsense in later. At the homestead Wynonna spends all her free time watching their fancy new TV. Waverly can’t stand it. And now here she is, a professional actor for life. How ironic.

She gives them everything. The most dumbfounded  _ Nicole, is that really you?  _ she can possibly manage, like there’s some possible way Waverly Earp would never be able to recognize Nicole Haught, sober or drunk. Nicole exits the train and tries what Waverly hopes isn’t her best to look surprised. She waits with her fake leg on her side, leaving Waverly to run alone to her. It feels like an unfortunate metaphor for this tour. 

It isn’t the same, when Waverly kisses her. There’s traces of cigarette smoke that makes her want to cough, and morning alcohol that makes her want to gag. The scent of it reminds her of Ward Earp, her drunken nothing of a father, not the girl she knew at the stream. The two of them, with Rachel. Shooting the bow. Fishing at night. Sleeping side by side in the hut Nicole made with nothing but her hands. They kissed at the lake, the only two tributes left alive in the arena. They were going to die for one another.

Waverly remembers finding Nicole. Her red hair spread amongst the grass and the flowers, smiling from below up at Waverly like Waverly was an ethereal being. 

At the lake, Waverly felt powerful. She had Nicole by her side, and she could face anything the Union was going to throw at her. Now she stands here, with the person she’s thought about night after night for six months, and everything she feels is so far away she fears she won't ever be able to grasp it again. 

She stares into Nicole’s eyes, but there’s nothing in there. Nicole looks back at her, and all Waverly can find is an endless fog over a quiet ocean. 

By god, that alcohol  _ reeks.  _

The performance is so horribly fake, even Waverly doesn’t believe it. Dolls makes sure the cameras cut just as the kiss ends, picking up on the fact Waverly doesn’t know where to go from here if Nicole is in another realm, and all around unresponsive. She can always count on her mentor, that’s one constant.

From her understanding, and further shown when Nicole reenters the train and has an alcohol bottle taken away from her, Nedley wants the same. He wants what’s best for his tribute. His victor. Genuinely. If anything, Kate doesn’t want to screw up in front of the Union. Probably Doc, too, just to avoid giving him the satisfaction of the tease. 

Waverly stands here, on this platform, aided by everyone. None of them are the one person she wants the most, and none of them are the one person she needs to get President Clootie off her back.

-

The alcohol Nicole sneaks into her possession is taken yet again by Doc, after she’s fallen asleep with it in her hand. He says, “One should not let a fine drink go to waste,” and disappears somewhere in the train. 

Waverly hears Dolls and Nedley talking about something. Kate is somewhere else, though Waverly can’t make an effort to look for her. She sits in the open lounge area, a wide table of food behind her, and she observes the land as it passes outside. Other than the Capital City, Waverly’s never left Sector 5. She’s never left her home town of Purgatory.

Prairies stretched for miles as she went out west. Her home grew smaller, quickly, but the prairies lasted so long she believed the entire world was the same. Then they moved out into Sector 4’s forests. Green, planted everywhere she could look and everywhere she could dream. These were the border to Purgatory, where sometimes she’d see the lumber camps if she climbed high enough and squinted hard enough. She never got to see the ocean in Nicole’s hometown—they stopped too far from the beaches.

Sector 3 is massively different. There are no long chunks of land, bare for man to use for survival. The sky is not blue. There’s smoke, so much smoke she thinks to tell Dolls the town might be on fire. The bland, gray buildings are so close together she fears it may be some kind of hazard, as well. No horses. No people working the fields. They all travel in cars, four-wheeled automated beasts, and she sees people and machines working together to mass produce more and more of them. Dolls says Rachel worked on the line between the electronics and automobiles territories. Electronics are more in closed off labs, not nearly as monstrous as these machines. Waverly sees why Rachel favored the sound of the quiet wilderness.

Nedley has no luck in trying to gently wake up Nicole. Kate  _ accidentally  _ breaks a glass against the hard wood table next to her head and she jumps awake, cursing and swinging her fist. Kate hands over Nicole’s prosthetic and she quietly curses all over again, disappearing in the hall before returning with the same frown. She tries to curse Kate, but a hiccup keeps her from saying real words. Waverly decides she’ll deliver the prepared speech given to her by Doc. Written by the Union, likely published by the president.

Just before they enter the stage in the Square, just before the Justice Building home to order in Sector 3’s automobile industry, Nicole removes her screwed-in arm and throws it backstage before anyone can stop her or the event from starting. Waverly feels her heart stop for a moment. Clootie wants her to keep Nicole under control, and the drunken asshole does this!

She stands in a daze next to Waverly, and Waverly forces the smile on her face so hard she thinks her apparent perfect jaw will crumble to ash. There’s your entertainment, citizens of Panem! Instant disintegration!

Words about how much of an honor it is to be here, among those who keep Panem connected. The Union is one unit, and they wouldn’t be anything without the hard working citizens of the automobile region. Sector 3 has the smallest land, a perfect dot in the middle of the country, but they work the hardest and produce the most. Someone in the crowd yells this, just in case Waverly isn’t aware. They do the most, and they are fed the worst. Their tributes are looked to as cannon fodder. Lambs to the slaughter. Waverly is supposed to understand this! She’s of Sector 5! The other lives chosen to make Careers like Nicole look like the perfect warriors of the Union!

The shouting gets worse. Peacekeepers raise their weapons, and some of the naysayers interrupting Waverly’s happy little speech are silenced. Others keep going. They’re starving, they’re desperate, and they’re angry. They don’t care about some celebrity relationship born from blood. They want food!

Nicole opens her mouth and makes everything worse. Even better, someone identifies her words are slurred. She tells them the dangers of being a Career. The expectations. The training. The disgusting words the Union tells their elite children to get them to kill one another. The Union sucks. The Union is evil. President Clootie can eat a white and red rose and choke on it. Waverly doesn’t get to finish her speech. She doesn’t think she’ll see her sisters ever again, either.

-

“Well, that was a way to start the tour.” Kate paces the room, her heels clicking against the metal floor in a way that annoys Waverly. Luckily Waverly is more annoyed by the alcohol in Nicole’s system. Any other day she’d be happy to cheer on her bravery for speaking out. But today, while her family is on the line? Not interested.

Nicole isn’t even ashamed. Waverly isn’t convinced she even knows what’s going on right now.

“They aired the footage of the reuniting. Some people thought something was off about you, Haught. They were watching you. And now you do this? Oh, the president is going to be  _ pissed.” _

The president is going to be  _ pissed.  _ Waverly wonders if he threatened Kate, too, the intense way she cares. The way she specifically mentioned the president and not something about Nicole’s manners not being perfectly Union standards. 

Thinking about this possible interaction keeps Waverly distracted enough and less close to completely freaking out. The dinner with the mayor was even worse; an awkward and silent feast, instead of a lively celebration. Can she even salvage this? They just started and already it’s too far to repair!

Nedley takes Nicole by the arm to her room on the train, the prosthetic in his possession. Waverly hears loud conversation into the night, but can’t make out the words. 

The chaos matches the tone of this town perfectly. The smoke doesn’t cease, no matter how late into the evening it becomes. Buildings look absolutely miserable, as if they’re about to topple right over. By the looks of it, most people don’t have formal homes. They retire to the top portion of the factories they work in to sleep, while the night crew works on the day crew’s projects. Endless production. Endless luxury for those above them.

The transition into the new region of Sector 3, where the electronics hail, is seamless. There’s almost no difference, save for the lighter smog and taller buildings. Waverly wonders if Rachel worked the day or night shift. Where she slept. If she had her own bed, or if she rotated that out, too. 

It’s still impossible to wrap her mind around. Waverly’s thought about it for six months, and she still can’t figure out who would’ve nominated Rachel for the games. A young girl, who spent her free time building music boxes. Was Rachel secretly a bully here? Did she lose a bet? Did someone hate music with a burning passion?

She can’t imagine hating Rachel. She was a sweet girl, and she was damn smart. Learning to fish from the brief lessons with Nicole. Make her own fish hooks. She caught on about the leaves Waverly used for the venom, like it was nothing, in the midst of being attacked by sabre toothed cats. Rewiring the deactivated mines, sneaking around patrolling Careers to do so. Waverly wishes she could’ve gotten to know Rachel better. Spend more time with her. At least Nicole—

Waverly hears terrible screaming coming from Nicole’s room and jumps to her feet by instinct. But Nicole drags herself out, silently, limping into the lounge and grabbing more alcohol. She eyes Waverly briefly before looking down at the ground. It’s dark, but Waverly can see the sweat on her skin. The messy way she’s clearly ruffled her hair. They cut her hair off after the games, but it’s grown back in the past six months.

“Nightmares?” Waverly tries.

Nicole looks at her again before continuing her half awake gait down the hall. No response.

“I get them too.”

Nicole stops, hesitating, before disappearing down the hall for the night.

-

Dolls wakes Waverly where she’s fallen asleep by the window. Someone placed a blanket over her while she was sleeping, and she knows it was Dolls when he jokes about how much her neck is going to hurt today. He’s not wrong—she can feel it already. Somehow she knows, today especially, her neck won’t be the worst of her problems.

Today, they visit the home of Rachel Valdez. 

From the start of the day, Nicole is already a mess. Nicole’s never been stupid. She’s aware of where they are and what they’re about to do. Waverly thinks Nedley has made arrangements in preparation, and the nervous look on Kate’s face confirms Clootie most definitely threatened her to make this tour perfect, as well. Waverly wonders if he threatened Doc, too. She’s never really been able to read Doc. Not that she’s tried too hard. 

The table is preset with all of Nicole’s favorite foods from home. Water waits. Waverly knows it won’t do a thing. She knows the second she sees Nicole emerge from her room wearing the prosthetic she hates so much. She knows, Nicole is already gone, long before anyone can intervene. Nicole isn’t stupid.

Today, they are all screwed.

Wynonna is on the line. Waverly isn’t ready to give up just yet. The designers place them in a bright white ensemble. Braid Waverly’s hair. She plots while they fuss for the millionth time about split ends or whatever nonsense it is that plagues rich Union designers. She barely pays Fish attention as she runs the speech through her head. She won’t even take the time to use the cards. Waverly will have to get in and get out as fast as possible if she’s going to make this work. Give the speech, say something nice about Rachel, and leave. If she dwells, she invites Nicole to do whatever it is the alcohol will make Nicole do. Protect Wynonna. She has to protect Wynonna.

Immediately, Nicole stumbles on stage. Waverly doesn’t let it get to her. She has to focus on her goal. The mayor of the electronics region of Sector 3 introduces them, and Waverly takes a moment to scan the crowd. Not nearly as dirty as their automobile counterparts, but still just as dead tired. Union citizens love luxury. Watching Wynonna with that TV, Waverly knows they have the busiest plate in all of Panem. Outside the games, it’s Sector 3’s job to keep the citizens of the Union entertained, every moment of every day of their boring lives. 

They look tired, brain dead, like they’re about to drop. The worst of the crowd is Rachel’s mother, standing on the podium below the stage. Waverly sees Sage had quite a large family. Same faces, all representing their father and taking their mother’s towering height. She wonders if Sage had a music box project like Rachel did. What was Sage passionate about?

The mayor’s speech in honor of the victors next to him ends, and right away Waverly springs to action. Turns her wandering brain off. She has a job to do, here. It’s her turn to protect Wynonna, and she won’t fail. Nicole looks like a complete zombie next to her, as tired as these people, and she feels confident. Maybe Nicole’s zoning out so hard she won’t do or say anything.

Nicole does and says something, and Waverly wants to launch herself off the stage.

Waverly gets through the entire speech without issue. She eyes Rachel’s mother, speaking to her as a person and not as a performer, and tells her Rachel was a beacon of hope in such a terrible time. She wishes she could’ve done more. She tells Sage’s family he was a symbol of strength, and he saved her life and Nicole’s life by killing Jack.

The sound of Jack’s name activates Nicole from her dormant zombie state. She steps in front of Waverly, standing as close as possible to Rachel’s mother, and she begins a speech of her own. She tells Gloria Valdez that her daughter was supposed to be the victor. Rachel gave Nicole a purpose, when Nicole was fully planning on prematurely stepping on the platforms and killing herself before she could play anyone’s games. Rachel gave her something to protect and fight for, and she doesn’t regret killing the Sector 1 who killed such a young girl. She tried everything in her power to keep Rachel safe. She betrayed her own neighbors of Sector 4. She played the other Careers like they were nothing. Some nights she went hungry just to make sure Rachel ate. 

Out loud, to the crowd and all of Panem to hear, Nicole Haught tells Gloria Valdez that President Clootie is an evil criminal who would gladly sacrifice Rachel again if it meant more entertainment for his inner circle.

Waverly thinks to herself she should’ve given Wynonna a longer goodbye.

Nicole continues. She wants to do something for Gloria. For Sage, who lost his life to the tribute she failed to kill. She wants to give both families one month of her winnings, every year for her inability to protect their children.

It goes quiet, in a way that terrifies Waverly. It’s such a kind gesture. It’s the kindest, most generous gesture a victor will ever offer to a fallen tribute’s family, and Waverly feels anxious the longer the silence goes on. There’s no protocol for this. No one’s ever done this before.

A man extends his arm from the crowd, high into the air. He holds up the three middle fingers of his left hand for everyone to see, and by the second more and more people join him. He whistles the same four-note tune Rachel did, the one she used to signal Waverly and Nicole in that final heist.

This is a rare action at funerals. A way of saying goodbye to someone. A way of honoring someone’s life. Waverly did it for Rachel, without hesitation.

Something terrible is about to happen. Waverly knows it. She can feel it. The speed in which she’s taken off stage and back into this region’s Justice Building is her proof. Behind her, Nicole resists. Nicole isn’t done talking with Gloria, and they force her into the building. Before the doors close, they both hear it. Waverly gets closer, to help drag Nicole inside, and she sees it. The man who started, with the whistling. Peacekeepers drag him on stage before shooting him in the back of the head for everyone to see.

There is no dinner with the mayor. The teams are shoved back onto their train and sent to the next town before anyone can blink.

-

Waverly doesn’t see Nicole on the train. She doesn’t look for her. She doesn’t really care, because her hands are shaking so uncontrollably she fears she’ll never be able to stop them. They shake for her sister. For the man they murdered. For Sage and Rachel’s families. The dinner was cancelled. They actually  _ cancelled  _ the dinner.

She is so, so  _ screwed. _

Dolls approaches her with an expression that just makes her more nervous. He has tea for her, but she refuses it. He tells her it’ll calm her nerves and she yells nothing, after that horrific incident, will ever, ever calm her nerves.

“I tried talking with her, but she said I’m not her mentor and slammed the door in my face,” Dolls reports. “Nedley’s in there with her now. I told him to talk about behavior.”

“That’s a long list,” Waverly says. “I’ve been doing everything they want, Dolls. I’ve been pleasant at the dinners. I read the scripts. I keep it short. But she’s out there, doing—”

“I think you need to find a way to reach her. You can’t hide Nicole, and you can’t ignore her.” 

“I’m not a babysitter.”

“For this, you might have to be.”

“For the rest of our lives, you mean. Dolls, I don’t know if I—”

Nicole walks past them. Waverly doesn’t know why, but she’s disappointed when she doesn’t stop and apologize. Waverly knows drunks. Ward was a drunk. He was loud, cruel, and constantly full of rage. He was at war with the world, acting like no one else was, too. He was so aggressive the thought of him, right now, makes her shake harder. He made Willa into something cold. He made Wynonna into something loud and brash. He made Waverly into something afraid and quiet. Ward is the reason Waverly keeps her head on a swivel. Why she never looks away, never keeps her head down, never stays out of the loop. People are so unpredictable, sometimes so rashly it terrifies her to her core.

But she doesn’t feel terror right now. She feels rage. She knows what Nicole is here for. Nicole is the one person Waverly’s got a grip on, and the one person she doesn’t think she’s afraid of. Nicole is above everyone else. She’s different from Waverly. She watches people the same way, because she also knows how people work. She has her own plans. She has her own way of doing things, sometimes in ways that excel past Waverly’s own planning and watching.

When Waverly watches the same Nicole Haught from the arena walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of whiskey, she feels rage. When she sees Nicole Haught not learn her lesson, not care for the things happening around her, not  _ planning _ against the forces against them, Waverly feels rage. She watches Nicole, barely able to walk down the hall, not calculating when Waverly needs her to calculate the most.

Nicole holds the liquor the same way her traitorous father did, and the sight fills Waverly with rage. She needs Nicole the most, right now, right here, and Nicole isn’t here. She’s somewhere far, far away, and she doesn’t even care.

_ I think you need to find a way to reach her. _

Waverly leaves her seat and walks down the hall. She bursts into Nicole’s room before the door can close, kicking past empty bottles, and ignores the questioning look on Nicole’s face. it’s too late for Nicole to observe. It’s far too late. Waverly grabs the bottle of whiskey, ripping it from Nicole’s grip, and begins to pour it down the sink in Nicole’s bathroom. Followed by any and every other half-empty bottle she can find.

“What the hell are you doing?”

It’s the first thing Nicole Haught has said to her in six months. The first thing Nicole Haught has said to her this entire tour, drunk off her ass, arguing about things the president has threatened them all with, is her concern over spilled beer.

Waverly doesn’t know how it happens, but somewhere along the way she ends up shoving Nicole into the shower and spraying her in the face with the showerhead until Dolls pulls her off. Nicole lost her balance on her false leg along the way. Her real right leg kicks around, and her left arm grips at Waverly. But Nicole isn’t Nicole anymore. She’s not strong. She’s not well fed. Not confident, not charming, not planning anything. She’s not even muscular anymore.

Dolls pulls Waverly off of her and Nedley turns the water off. Nicole sits where she collapsed in the tub, panting heavily, blinking rapidly. Nedley stretches his hand out to help her, but she doesn’t notice him.

She stares at Waverly, terrified.

-

Rachel and Nicole in a field of flowers.

She can see it. It’s so clear. Waverly wishes she brought more than a lead pencil, but it’ll have to do for now. She can see the colors in her mind, despite the boring gray color distracting her as she goes. She sketches Nicole, running through tall sunflowers with Rachel on her back. The sun will bounce off the yellow, making an even brighter scene. She imagines herself there, watching the two run around and act silly, not a bother in the world.

Nedley sits with her, and the reality of all her problems comes crashing back into her at an instant. It disorients her, and she misses the first few words he says. Likely the millionth apology for Nicole’s behavior.

“I know a little bit about your situation. Dolls mentioned it.”

Nedley doesn’t keep his voice down. The only ones around them are Avoxes who have no tongues to talk with, anyway. Avoxes no one will pay any attention to but for setting the table with food.

“President Clootie threatened Nicole, too,” he continues. “He told her she needs to act more like an outstanding citizen, and it’s my understanding she reacted with an argument.”

Waverly pretends not to totally freak out. “What did she say?”

“She argued about the Hunger Games until he said she’ll regret her actions and left. I don’t know about you, but he’s been tormenting Nicole since the games ended. She claims, he sends cat hair to her on occasion. When she first got home from the games, she found a skinned cat waiting for her in her new home. She said it was her old tom cat.”

“A skinned—oh my god.”

“She didn’t do well in PT, either. Not because she didn’t want to. She just couldn’t. Nicole’s never really had a support system. She pays her parents to live somewhere else. They said she couldn’t manage to stand up without help until they invited me to the sessions.”

“How did you lose your—No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that’s rude.”

Nedley doesn’t mind. He even smiles at her, softly. “My games were getting static towards the end. They flooded the arena with acid until I was the last one left. I was clumsy. My legs were halfway in the pool before the other tribute fell off the tree he was climbing and fell in.”

Waverly apologizes again for asking, but Nedley is as kind as he was before she asked him to bring up his past trauma. There was a reason Wynonna did all the talking in the market.

“Nicole trusts me, and I understood her struggle. She spent a lot of time in those treatment facilities, in large and silent rooms. She said the houseboat they gave her made her uncomfortable. The parties are to mask out the silence.”

It’s the same reason Waverly bought that stupid TV for Wynonna and a music player. She and Nicole have the same minds; always thinking.

“But the arm is new,” Nedley goes on. Waverly wonders what the point of this is, but she can’t say she doesn’t enjoy hearing something about Nicole’s time in the past six months. Knowing she was doing more than getting drunk and feeling sorry for herself makes Waverly feel slightly better. “I assume it was something President Clootie mentioned and, well, you know Nicole.”

Waverly finds herself smiling. For the first time in a while, she feels like she does know Nicole again.

“Anyway, I’m rambling now. I’m not asking you to be her therapist or her babysitter. I’m not even asking you to love her back. I just want you to know she isn’t doing this to be against you. Nicole still cares about you, Waverly. Deeply. I will do anything I can to help her, and help you, and Kate and Doc will do the same.”

She thinks to ask whether or not the two were threatened as well, but she can’t find the timing.

“Nicole is a great kid. She’s just lost. That’s just a part of being a victor. I’m sure you’ve been lost, too, at some point.”

Waverly jokes, “I think I’ve been plenty lost these past six months.” She happily takes a moment to smile at Nedley. “Thank you. I needed to hear that. You’re a really great mentor. I’m sorry I tried to kill your tribute.”

“Eh, she deserved it. Her words, not mine.” With some effort, Nedley stands from his chair and takes one last look at Waverly. “I’ll leave you to it, now. Try not to stay up too late. Sector 2 is full of high energy people.”

Waverly doesn’t realize she took his advice until she wakes with a scream. Something loud breaks her from the sleep she wasn’t aware she was having, and the notebook in her hand is thrown a good distance across the cabin.

“I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy, I’m sorry.”

Waverly finds Nicole on the other side of the train car, helping some Avoxes clean up a glass she broke. She curses herself again for being clumsy. Then she walks the notebook back over to Waverly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

Waverly looks at Nicole. The look in her eye so guilty she can’t even look at Waverly. “Don’t—don’t worry about it.”

The Avoxes return with a glass to replace the one Nicole broke, and a second they both assume is for Waverly. Or it’s a passive aggressive  _ god you’re such a klutz _ motion. Either way, the Avoxes leave them be and Nicole hands the second glass to Waverly. Waverly’s pleased to find the contents are water and absolutely nothing else. Nicole is close to her, and she doesn’t smell anything on her. Just soap and shampoo.

“You should, um, you should head to bed,” Nicole mumbles. “It’s late.”

Honestly, Waverly admits, “The mattress is too soft.”

Nicole nods. “Well, I guess I’ll, um. I’ll see you?”

One part of Waverly has to fight laughter at the sight of the charming Career she knew in the games, standing here and acting so horribly, horribly awkward. The other half knows she’s guilty. Nicole knows what she did wrong, and she’s guilty. Also, Waverly almost drowned her to death a couple hours ago.

“Are you going to bed?” Waverly asks. Nicole shrugs.

“Does staring at the ceiling count as ‘bed’? If it does, then yes.”

Waverly needs to break through to her. Nicole hates the silence. “Why don’t you sit with me a minute? We can watch the sights.”

“Sure.”

There’s a million things Waverly can fill the space with. There’s a million things she’s done since they last saw one another, and there’s a million things Nicole’s done. Waverly doesn’t know where to start. She’s never had the sort of charm for small talk, not like her sister and certainly not like Nicole. She wants to ask something easy, put them on a simple subject that won’t scare either of them away.

Then her brain decides to throw a curveball and she asks about Rachel.

“Are you really going to give them money? For the rest of your life?”

Waverly thanks the stars Nicole doesn’t get freaked out and run, because  _ damn it _ that was a terrible question to ask. 

“Of course,” Nicole says calmly. She’s not upset. She looks a little surprised, like she thought the whole event was an alcohol-induced vision. But she sticks with it. “Rachel and Sage’s families. They saved us both. It’s the least I can do. Especially for Rachel.”

“I’d be happy to pitch in,” Waverly offers, and she almost sees Nicole smile. “I have more money than I know what to do with anyway.”

“I bought a saxophone,” Nicole says. “No reason. Never played it. Never learned to play it. Just. Bought a saxophone.”

Waverly begins to laugh, hard, harder than she’s laughed in months, and she tells Nicole about the time Willa said carriages were for pretentious people, so she bought Willa the most expensive carriage she could find.

It goes like this, back and forth, until they see the sun begin to rise. It’s the first time either of them have paid the sights any actual attention, and both are fine with it. Nicole says they should at least take a nap before the day begins and moves to part from Waverly.

Then she stops herself, because there’s something on her mind.

“I kissed someone else. She was another victor. I only did it because I thought it was my last night. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.”

Then she’s gone, like nothing just happened.

Waverly follows Nicole to her room, because the lack of information is plain unfair. She doesn’t really care about the kiss. Not like they’re dating, right?

Right?

“Wait. What do you mean, ‘last night’?”

Nicole falls back into her new self. The silly stories about weird purchases have left her system. In her room, she kicks one of the bottles on the floor aside so she doesn’t trip on it and mumbles something about finding a way to pick them up. “I threw one last party, because I was going to kill myself. But I couldn’t go through with it.”

“What stopped you?” Waverly has to know. There’s something in there, and her curiosity is killing her.

“I wanted to see you again some day.”

-

The buildings of Sector 2 are far easier to draw out. There’s no smoke blocking the way. No clouds blocking her mind, Rachel’s song echoing through her thoughts. Smoke does bellow out of the shiny black buildings, but it pollutes the sky more politely than in Sector 3. Giant tubes in the air push the smoke out, several miles above the buildings and even further from the workers below. This is the weapons region of Sector 2. Weapons will always be most important to someone like President Clootie. Someone who’s losing control and admits his system is as fragile as glass. Possibly more fragile.

Nicole finds Waverly by the window later in the morning and jokes this is exactly where she left Waverly last night. Waverly jokes Nicole is slow—she’s run a whole marathon by now. She accepts the tea Nicole offers and laughs at the face Nicole makes when she drinks her own.

“Never really been a tea fan,” Nicole explains. It’s a huge change, a huge effort, and Waverly wants to wrap her in a huge hug. But they’re both holding piping hot tea. “I’ve heard you took on painting. Nedley says most victors fall back on a hobby. Y’know, to distract from the trauma.”

“Not just after the games. I did it during the games too.”

“She’s proactive.” Nicole actually smiles, playfully, until she drinks the tea in her hands and cringes horribly. For a blessed second, Waverly  _ actually _ saw the girl from the Training Center again, and she smiles into her own drink.

“I poured a lot of my money into my new land back home,” Waverly says. “We have barns and crops and tractors, livestock, all that. I also had a small cabin built. I paint in there. It’s a whole studio, about a half the size of our small barn.”

Nicole is impressed. “What do you draw?”

“Everything.” Waverly circles around, notebook and tea in hand, and sits closer to Nicole. She shows her the sketches she drew of the lumber yards of Sector 4. The buildings in 3. Gloria Valdez, alone on her podium. Her sketch from this morning of Sector 2’s tall buildings and candy cane smoke pipes.

They sit like this until it’s time to go. Sharing the same couch, talking about the drawings. Nicole tells Waverly the origin of her old tattoo.

The entire time, Nicole smells like soap and shampoo. No alcohol. No smoke.

-

Waverly’s pride in Nicole is overshadowed by the harsh crowd they find. Booing and arguing as the victors share their speech, working together the same way they won together. Jack’s family doesn’t look at them, not once. The crowd has negative thoughts about every one of their scripted words. It’s all unfair. They’re not celebrities! Not heroes! They’re working for President Clootie to keep them all under his boot! It’s a scam! Other lame conspiracies. These people hate these victors, and they hate these games—the Sector most loyal to the Union cannot stand the Union’s games any longer. Waverly doesn’t really blame them. She just gets through the speech with Nicole, shares a nice dinner, and escapes to the train.

At the dinner, Nicole doesn’t touch alcohol of any kind. Someone pours her wine, and she stares at the drink before handing it off to Doc, who is happy to down it instead. She makes conversation and tells jokes with the mayor’s son. Waverly overhears someone saying love can really change a person. Nicole is getting better, trying her hardest, and they’re noticing.

President Clootie will notice.

On the train, Waverly hears commotion in her room and walks in just as Kate storms out, cursing Nicole for destroying property. Nicole kneels awkwardly by the bed, planks of wood sprawled about the ground. Nicole shoves some of them under the mattress before she notices Waverly and explains.

“I’m hoping that’ll make it more firm. You’re going to destroy your neck sleeping against the window like that, you know.”

In all honesty, Waverly’s mind has been going too fast to notice whether or not her neck hurts at all right now. “Did you destroy your own bed for me?”

Nicole shakes her head. “Nope. I just wanted to make Kate mad.”

“Thank you, Nicole.”

Nicole tries to blow it off like it’s nothing, but Waverly catches the smile on her face. Then, “What’s up with all the random clothes and towels on your bed? Never took you for the messy type.”

“That’s my attempt at a weighted blanket. Helps with anxiety.”

It also helps with the fact Waverly gets extremely cold at night, but lately that’s been the least troubling thing about her nights. 

Nicole stops propping herself on her one knee and moves to sit fully on the ground, her back against the bathroom door. “Huh. Weight. Does that really work?”

“Most nights,” Waverly nods. “Even better when it’s a proper one. But these blankets are so thin.”

Under her breath, on the floor, Nicole mutters, “Weight . . .” She makes a thoughtful expression before standing, with some effort, and makes to leave. But Waverly doesn’t want her to leave. Not yet.

Waverly remembers her old strategy and decides to be selfish. To keep Nicole here, for her own comfort. “Stay for a bit?”

Nicole obliges, and they find themselves sitting at the foot of the bed together. Nicole asks Waverly more about what she’s been up to, and Waverly happily keeps the conversation going. This is her Nicole. This is the Nicole she remembers spending time with, winning the games with. She wants to hold onto it for as long as she possibly can.

Waverly talks about the library she’s built back home, before President Clootie showed up and violated it with his presence. She knocked down two other rooms in the house to build it. Willa complained about it, until Wynonna reminded her who bought the house in the first place. Waverly bought every book she could find, from Union shelves all over the northeast, to all around the Old Woman’s collection in the market. If it was published, Waverly did everything she could to get her hands on it. Painting, reading, painting, reading. Reading in the library, reading in the barn, reading in the woods. For six months, it’s all she did.

“Did you bring that one book?” Nicole asks. “The one you mentioned in the games? About the two lovers who can’t be together?”

_ Romeo and Juliet.  _ It was the first book Wynonna ever bought for Waverly, and it’s the book she’s read the most. She doesn’t know why. Now she knows it was the universe’s funny way of foreshadowing.

Waverly grabs the book from the small collection of things she’s brought on the tour. The mockingjay pin from her sister. Some of the sweets her sister is probably eating at home right now. The leather boots Wynonna handcrafted herself, just for her. And, this book.

She shares some of her chocolate stash with Nicole and begins explaining William Shakespeare. A short history on his plays and the old English written in the book. 

When she read it to Wynonna, Wynonna was bored. Didn’t follow too well with the long outdated wording. Nicole sits with her, where they’ve moved to relax against the headboard. Her eyes stare thoughtfully to the ceiling as the story goes along, and Waverly catches her reacting to every little thing.

“Tybalt is a douche.”

They go on, almost all the way to the end, before they both decide it’s too late in the night and they’re too tired to keep reading. Nicole thanks her, stretching out her limbs before moving to get up and go to her own room.

“I’ll get out of your hair.”

Waverly doesn’t want her to. “Don’t be silly, Nicole. You can stay.”

Nicole doesn’t want to go anywhere, either. “Good, because I’m way too lazy to walk across the train.”

This is the first time Waverly ever sees it. She’s seen Nicole’s amputated arm before. She was the one who did it. It barely registers as anything at all, is how used to the missing limb she is. To her, it’s just what Nicole looks like now. 

But the leg throws her. She could’ve saved it. The Union could’ve saved it, the same way they reversed complete deafness without a problem. She thinks of all the physical therapy sessions Nicole had to undergo. Learning to walk again, all by herself. Failing, over and over again. It’s been half a year and she’s still clumsy with it. Waverly theorizes this is why she walks around, drinking. To mask it. To pretend her clumsiness is from the alcohol and not her own mistakes. Not the impairment the Union forced upon her to remind her time and time again what she did in the games. 

Between the leg and the constant packages of cat hair, Waverly understands the partying. The drinking, the smoking, and whatever other drugs she undoubtedly got her hands on. The processes that brought Nicole to consider taking her own life away.

Nicole lived to see Waverly again. She’s sober now, dealing with all her frustrations, because Waverly needs her to. Waverly wonders what she’s doing in return to pay these favors back to Nicole.

Under the thin blanket, the loose clothes, and the multiple towels, Waverly flips over and lays herself across Nicole’s body. Explaining, “Weight.” Nicole doesn’t protest. She lays there without a word, relaxed.

By morning, the sunlight seeping through the glass of the train window behind them, Waverly sees neither has moved. Neither has stirred. Waverly hasn’t been visited by her past, in her own mind. She doesn’t see Rachel tonight. The Sector 1 boy that killed her. She doesn’t see the bats from under the arena, picking at her flesh until there’s nothing left. When she wakes, Nicole is breathing, not dead from her failure in the games. Her mother doesn’t return to call her a failure. Ward doesn’t throw bottles at her and ask why she was born.

By morning, Waverly meets eyes with Nicole, where she’s tucked under Nicole’s chin against her shoulder. Nicole fixes a loose strand of hair that’s fallen from her braid out of her face.

“We slept through the night,” Waverly whispers. She hears excitement in her own voice, and sees the same in Nicole’s eyes.

“How long before Kate gets mad and starts banging on the door for us to wake up?” Nicole asks. She stretches before closing her eyes again, and Waverly laughs.

“About 20 minutes. Are you still tired?”

Nicole’s eyes don’t open, but she grins and her dimple greets Waverly. Waverly’s thought about it for months now. “I overcompensated,” Nicole mumbles.

Waverly lets her be and takes in the moment. They’re not in a hut Nicole handcrafted, hiding from the competition on numbered days. Nicole’s arm isn’t burned. Waverly isn’t afraid Nicole won’t ever wake again. She’s right here, in this moment with Nicole, and she understands. She understands all the anguish Romeo and Juliet went through to be with one another. Why they would risk feuding families, invest so much time into plotting, fight so hard to be together. Waverly understands why Nicole’s been so far away, and she understands why she’s spent so much of her own time reading books and getting lost in her paintings. Something was missing. Now they’re together, and Waverly feels the most confident she’s ever felt. They’re actually, really going to outdo Clootie’s orders. They’re going to win the game, all over again, because they’ve found one another again.

When the two mentors knock on their door, cursing them for being so late to get up, Waverly isn’t fearful. When Nicole wakes, she doesn’t panic. She laughs. She laughs and she whispers, “We should do this again sometime.”

-

Waverly doesn’t truly notice how massive the shift in Nicole is until Nicole approaches her after breakfast. She asks Waverly to tell her, in detail, everything Clootie told her to do on this tour. So Waverly tells her. Romance. Nicole’s behavior. Erase any and all nods to rebellion.

Nicole repeats, “Romance, stop fucking up. I’m working on the fucking up part. All we have to do is sell them the cutest couple they’ve ever seen.”

Then she’s off without another word, mumbling to herself as she walks out of Waverly’s room. Waverly doesn’t do anything but smile. Nicole is helping. Nicole is back, and she’s strategizing, putting plans together, finding a way to get them out of this.

Waverly isn’t alone anymore. 

Nicole takes the lead in Sector 2’s military region. The air is cleanest here, and the houses are the biggest Waverly has seen so far. This is where the Peacekeepers are made. This is where law and justice and order are bred. It’s ironic the victor who spent the last six months partying will take the lead here, but Waverly trusts her. This is the real Nicole. She trusts the real Nicole with everything she has.

The people below don’t shout. Don’t make a fuss. They aren’t as vocal about their hatred for victors and the games as their neighbors. They’re disciplined, standing in perfect lines with perfect posture. Nicole knew this walking in. She’s spent time with one of them before, and she adjusts her personality to fit. 

Waverly watches her, because it’s a spectacle. Standing with perfect posture, her post-games slouch gone. There’s none of her usual charm, with the smirking and the joking and finding a way to get on their good side. She’s perfectly professional, perfectly presentable. She even requested with her designer to put two sleeves on her jacket today. She projects her voice in a way that makes it sound like she’s giving orders to the crowd, the language they understand. The mayor salutes her as they leave, and she stops to salute him back.

At dinner, Nicole plays harder to the mayor’s good side. President Clootie treats the military region the best, so she needs to play to him the best. Make him the happiest. She talks about weapons she never got to use in the games, and he happily goes on and on about the Peacekeepers’ arsenal. The secret projects they have with their small nuclear weapons, a small fraction of what the now-destroyed Sector 6 had. He’s all around ecstatic to talk about tools of death, and Waverly is amazed with the way Nicole grinds her teeth through the entire encounter without slipping once.

“I don’t care what they say about you, Haught,” the mayor says. “I think you’re a fine young woman.” They whoop and cheer in the train about that one.

On the train, Waverly hears more. People are noticing the change in Nicole already. The tour is almost over, and they’re on the right path to sell the story. Kate says people think Nicole is improving because she’s been reunited with Waverly after all this time, and Waverly knows they can exploit the living hell out of that concept. She’s almost excited to see the rest of the tour play out now. They make plans to dance at the next dinner and be as mushy and gross as possible.

Nicole’s done a full one-eighty at an instant, and Waverly cannot thank her enough for her effort. Her sisters are going to be safe. Wynonna will be okay by the time she gets back, and for the foreseeable future.

Nicole transfers all her blankets off her own bed and agrees to keep sharing Waverly’s. She says they must finish the book before the tour is over, because she’ll never forgive Waverly if she leaves her on a cliffhanger for who knows how long. But Waverly doesn’t start reading. Not yet. There’s a question on her tongue she’s been saving all day. Watching Nicole all day, there’s one thing she’s burning to ask.

“What changed your mind? Why’d you stop drinking all of a sudden?”

Nicole immediately bursts into laughter, and Waverly can’t help but feel like she’s missing something. “You waterboarded me and scared the living hell out of me, for one.”

Waverly’s frustration leaves her. It’s a fairly valid reason. Then Nicole falls serious. There’s more.

“Rachel. She wouldn’t want me to waste my time like this. She wouldn’t want me to sit around and feel sorry for myself. We both survived those games, Waverly. I’m not the only one with problems. Rachel isn’t the only one I wanted to protect.” She turns and faces Waverly. “I’m supposed to protect you, not try and destroy your family. That’s what Nedley said to me. He didn’t talk to me, he yelled at me. And I deserved it. I was letting you down. You’ve saved my life, time and time again, and it’s my turn to step up and help you. We do this together, Waverly. We’re a team. We’re the victors of the 99 th Hunger Games, and we do this together. For as long as it takes. For as long as it takes, I will be by your side, and I promise you I will—”

Nicole doesn’t finish. Waverly, in one swift motion, moves in closer to her and kisses her, the real Nicole, for the first time since the games. No cameras. No games. Not for Clootie. Not for Wynonna or Willa. For herself. She kisses Nicole, because deep down, under all the threats and dangers, she really, truly loves Nicole Haught.

She’s seen her for months. Nicole Haught, beneath her, surrounded by the tall grass. Red hair fanned out underneath her. Nicole Haught, smiling up at her. She sacrificed herself and her arm, forever, twice, for Waverly. She fought Champ by herself. A bear. Waverly knows Nicole will fight time and time again, until the end, for her. Waverly rejected her before the games, and Nicole still went out of the way to save her from the sabre cats. They were apart, and they both lost their way. Nicole in drink; Waverly in fantasy.

Waverly doesn’t want to part from Nicole. Not tonight. Not ever again, but there’s something about tonight that keeps her close. They don’t stop with the kiss. They don’t stop, not for hours. She wants to know everything about Nicole before the Union separates them again. Before she falls down the rabbit hole of loneliness without her fellow victor, her ally, her friend, her something more.

When everything is done, when the pleasure reaches them in full, she finally stops. She stops and she tells Nicole the other thing she’s been going over and over and over for six months filled with nothing but thought.

“I meant it. I meant it, Nicole. I do love you. I’ve thought about you. Every day, I thought about you. I’ve drawn you a thousand times. I heard your voice, everywhere I went. I—”

“I’m sorry I fucked up, Waverly.” Nicole looks up from underneath her, the same way she did in the games. The same way Waverly’s seen her, a thousand times. The same way she’s drawn her, a thousand times. “I was stupid and I fucked up and I put your family in danger. I’m sorry.”

“You fixed it.”

“I meant it, too. I do love you. Even though you chopped my arm off.”

Waverly laughs until the exhaustion of the day overcomes her. “We should get some sleep. We have two more.”

“Luxury manufacturing and mining. Then the interview and the last party.”

For the first time, Waverly can confidently believe, “We can do this.”

“We’re almost there,” Nicole agrees. 

Waverly finds herself laughing uncontrollably, and she ducks her head against Nicole’s. “We just had sex!”

She can feel Nicole’s smile, without even looking. “That’s another thing we should do again sometime.”

-

Sector 1 is the only competition against Sector 3 for smallest land. It resides closer to the manmade mountains the Union sits on, overlooking the land below. The mountains created by nuclear warfare belonging to the former Sector 6, the leader in the Dark Days of war against the Union. 

Six Sectors rebelled. The other four kept quiet and kissed the Union’s ass, and now their citizens live in luxury forever. Not a finger lifted for work. Sixty percent of what remained of the former North America was divided. Sector 4 lies along the west coast, from the snowy north to the warm south. Waverly’s home of Sector 5 stretches from the west, the top of the country to the bottom, extending southeast until it touches the east coast once more. The biggest plot of land, with the lowest population. Wynonna used to say the Union does this to keep Sector 5 from overpowering them.

Sector 2 circles the Union’s land, even under the mountains, bordering the southern Sector 5 farmlands. Sector 1 and 3 are the tiny neighbors squished between the Union and Sector 5’s north to south stretch. The land once belonging to Sector 6 borders only the Union north east, and has been deemed uninhabitable since it was destroyed in the Dark Days. Waverly’s read about her country’s geography since it was taught to her in school. Shown to her, on many maps. Now she’s finally seen it all for herself. All this land, all these people, and once again she finds herself in another town made up of factories and workers.

Luxury manufacturing. Turning the things the mining region pulls out of the earth into something for Union citizens, often fashion like jewelry or something stupid, like the makeup they plaster on Waverly and Nicole’s face before they leave the train.

They stand on the stage, smiling and holding hands and putting on a show for people who are too tired to care. Sharing the speech, pretending to finish each other’s sentences naturally and not as if they’ve given the same speech several times by now. 

The crowd doesn’t care. They couldn’t care less about this celebrity couple when they have real problems. Waverly makes eye contact with the family of the tribute Fortuna. Fortuna, who was ripped apart by the same sabre cats Nicole had to save Waverly from. The one who wielded the bow Waverly looted off her corpse.

Tonight’s dinner is different than those before. The people are dressed differently thanks to their proximity to luxury manufacturing. Waverly isn’t sure if the energy is different because of her attitude going in, or because the people are different. Nicole keeps the conversation alive over the meal. The couple takes to the dance floor in front of the band that plays, and they kiss and act as mushy as possible. Nicole tells Waverly people are staring at them and smiling, and Waverly wants to laugh in victory.

No nightmares. They sleep through the night, together, and neither wakes until morning. Waverly doesn’t even remember the things she’s seen since the games ended; the things that visited her brain at night.

She doesn’t remember, until she sees  _ him.  _ His picture from the games is displayed on a big screen, the same as the previous speeches before. She avoided looking at Rachel’s. But she stares at his, and she catches Nicole doing the same a few times.

Neither of them ever bothered to learn the Sector 1 boy’s name. He killed Rachel. Waverly is certain Nicole hates him. Waverly has no remorse for the family. He laughed when he killed Rachel. She’ll never feel sorry for his death. Go ahead and call her selfish.

Nicole is different. Waverly feels her hand tense as they go on. Nicole’s speech changes and her smile reveals itself to be fake. But she holds on. She holds on, because it’s important to her Waverly gets through this tour and returns to her living family. Waverly realizes she’s never asked Nicole how she feels about the fact she killed the most people in the previous games. But on the stage and over dinner isn’t the best place, so she tables it for now.

-

Training Center. It’s a place Waverly hoped never to see again. Maybe on Wynonna’s TV, but never in person. The fact she remembers where everything is on her floor dedicated to her Sector frustrates her. This isn’t her home. She shouldn’t know where anything is. 

All she needs to do is tough this out. One more night. One more performance. Do the ending interview with Atlas, finish the party at the president’s mansion, return home to her sisters. See how much of her chocolate Wynonna actually ate.

Nedley and Nicole join them on the fifth floor. No pranks from Nicole this time. Tonight, they’re talking strategy. Nicole and Waverly will be on stage. On TV. This is the biggest moment in the tour, and if they want to do something, they’ll need to do it tonight. Dolls pitches an engagement. Waverly says yes, for the sake of her sisters. Even the one who got her into this mess in the first place. Dolls isn’t sure it’ll be enough, and he invites the two to use any opportunity they can.

Nicole drops onto her one knee on the stage, and a part of Waverly doesn’t mind it. It’s the fact they’re forcing one another to do this, to be falsely engaged, for the enjoyment of people they’ll never know. It’s the fact her surprise and laughter is so fake. Everything about it is forced and fake and so  _ wrong _ , but she presses on the same way Nicole has this entire tour.

Panem’s esteemed president makes a surprise appearance on stage, in person, and the crowd goes wild. Waverly wonders how wild they would’ve gone for the threats he gave their beloved victors. For the skinned cat Nicole came home to after the games.

He hugs them both in the celebration. Nods at Waverly. For the first time since the incident in her library, she feels her shoulders relax.

Clootie congratulates them on their engagement and twists the knife further by complimenting how far Nicole has come, being able to kneel down and stand up on her own. Atlas joins him in the praise, telling tasteless jokes about Nicole’s leg and her physical therapy. Her limp that persists because she still has some work to do.

The president is baiting Nicole on, and Waverly knows she’s waiting for the chance to strike back. She trusts Nicole. Whatever she does, whatever she decides, will be for the best.

Nicole decides, and she smiles through every word. “It’s a shame, you know. Once this is all over, Atlas, I won’t get to go home to Waverly. We live in separate Sectors. Separate worlds!” 

She pauses to let the crowd boo the situation. Boo the president. 

“It’s just not fair. Marriage should be done together, not from a distance.” Nicole eyes Clootie. “We’re supposed to be a Union, and here we are, separate.”

Waverly sees someone actually  _ cry. _

Clootie’s hat points downward as he nods his head, looking down before up. “Indeed,” he says. “Perhaps we could hold the wedding in my home. We could invite everyone!”

He wins the crowd back with that one, but his eyes never leave Nicole. Nicole doesn’t back down.

-

They’re meant to go straight to the final event, a giant party at the president’s mansion, but Waverly and Nicole are taken back to their rooms to be changed. Apparently it’s considered rude and odd to show up to a party wearing the same clothes as the interview. Waverly thinks it’s pure stupidity. Clothes? Really?

Nicole shows up in Waverly’s room with a braid identical to hers. “We’re twins,” she says with fake enthusiasm. She begins to undo it and explains, “I only let them do it to shut them up.”

“No,” Waverly stops her, “Keep it.”

“It’s your thing, though.”

“It’ll strengthen our case. Besides,” Waverly says, quieter, “you look cute.”

Nicole hears and grins so wide it makes Waverly blush. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to keep it, then.”

They watch Doc fumble over Kate repeatedly on the way to the party. She wears bright gold eyeshadow that contrasts against her dark skin, and he goes absolutely wild over it. Talking about how they should all get gold, because they’re a team and they should represent such. Waverly wonders why he can’t just tell the woman she looks nice and be done with it.

Doc’s specific fashion plan makes significantly more sense once they arrive. Gold is everywhere. Gold jewelry, primarily, and mockingjays; they’re copying Waverly’s pin. The further they go into the house, the more Waverly begins to clock red dyed hair and one-sleeved shirts. Canes with no real use. 

“Kind of feels like they’re making fun of me,” Nicole mumbles. 

It’s all anyone talks about as they approach Waverly and Nicole, pestering them about the proposal and for autographs and pictures. Nicole eventually decides to make them feel bad by saying they should just go with the full prosthetic, too, and the physical therapy. Gets them to shut up for a good minute, and a good laugh out of Nicole. 

The crowd thins out as the night goes on, migrating around President Clootie once they’ve had their fun with the co-victors. 

Waverly declares to Nicole she’s going to make it through the rest of the night by setting a goal—she’s going to try every sweet she can find. Nicole laughs and says she’ll help keep an eye out. They walk around the gigantic mansion, sweeping every table in their path. Waverly gets Nicole to tag along in the taste contest, but eventually Nicole has to bow out.

Someone overhears. Offers them a glass of a pink liquid Waverly has never seen before. She assumes Nicole, being of higher status, might know, but she’s just as lost. The partygoer leaves the drink with them and explains it’ll make them sick so they can eat more, before they scurry off to stuff their face. Nicole takes the offensive item and dumps it into one of Clootie’s roses.

“Rachel said 3 had shortages all the time,” Nicole says. 

“People are starving back home, and here the Union just throws up so they can eat more.”

“I hate them,” Nicole says again. “I really, genuinely hate them.”

Waverly can’t disagree. She doesn’t think she’ll ever disagree. She watches them all night. All these people, purging their food to stuff more into their mouths. Dressing up like she and Nicole, calling them heroes of the public and whispering about their relationship. She doesn’t realize how hard she’s staring at these people until she and Nicole take the dance floor, and Nicole rubs a finger under her chin to get her attention.

The dancing isn’t perfect. It’s not their first time dancing together, and Waverly doubts it’ll be their last. She knows Nicole feels guilty about not being able to keep up in the way she tenses. The uneasiness of her fingers in Waverly’s hand. 

And yet, despite the clumsiness and the anxiety, Nicole takes the time to ask, “You doin’ okay?” Then she smiles that charming smile. “Don’t tell me you had too much sweets.”

A large bout of laughter echoes through the room, and Waverly follows the sound to President Clootie and the swarm of ass-kissers he’s collected. The people wear replica mockingjay pins. One-sleeved shirts. The red dyed hair. Canes. 

“Where are we going from here?” Waverly asks, ignoring Nicole’s question. “I mean, what are we doing? He’s gone through all this trouble, made us put on a show, and he’s just going to separate us?”

The best Nicole can do is shrug, and Waverly slumps. She was hoping for more than that. “We’ll just have to play it by ear. Adapt, survive.”

“Can you really keep this up, Nicole? Forever?” Dolls’s words from the beginning of the tour find her again. “We’ll be mentors, every year. Every year, they’ll want to know everything about our fantastic relationship. Our privacy, every year. Our lives, Nicole, our lives are theirs!”

Nicole squeezes her hand, and it brings her some calm. “I will happily spend all the time in the world with you, Waverly. If I have to power through the bullshit performance part, so be it.”

Waverly wants to relax at the sentiment, but she can’t. She still feels the threat over her shoulders, and she can’t shake it. This tour was stressful enough. How is the rest of her life going to feel? 

Waverly asks, “Do you really think he’ll take your bait? You challenged him, on stage. In front of everyone.”

“I’m not sure.” Nicole laughs to herself. “But it was funny making him look stupid up there. Maybe I can throw you in my suitcase and boat us away forever.”

Waverly finally looks at Nicole, so suddenly it surprises her. “Boat us away forever,” she repeats. “Nicole, the Sector 4 forest is connected to the woods I hunt in with Wynonna.”

Nicole begins to piece it together, and stands taller with it. Waverly leans closer, to keep their scheme between them and them only. This is something the citizens of the Union will never learn from them, will never pry from them.

“Nicole, what if we ran away?”

“Can you make it to the coast?”

“I’ll have to take Wynonna and Willa. But Wynonna and I have lasted days in those woods before.”

“And you’re a kick ass victor. I can buy the boat. There’s the coast guard, but we can sneak past them if I get something small enough.”

They both grin, wide, laughing between themselves.

“Waverly Earp, let’s run away!”

They laugh and laugh as the dance comes to a close, playing off their sudden excitement with a kiss to appear a lot less odd. It feels different to Waverly. It’s a promise, one far beyond a fake proposal and the ring she wears on her finger. They’re going to begin a new life together, and they’re going to live it on their own terms.

Someone approaches them as the song changes, and they do their best to hide their excitement. Their first real victory against Clootie. 

He’s a taller man, square-jawed. Short, buzzed down hair that, thankfully, is a natural color of brunette. That, or Waverly’s hair is a fashion trend now, too. 

He flashes them a welcoming smile before he introduces himself. “I’m Charlie. Charlie Del Rey.” He extends a hand out to Waverly, and she notes the rough texture of it. Not soft. Rough, like he’s a man that does real work. “May I have this dance?”

Waverly eyes Nicole in her peripheral vision. Nicole squints her eyes at him defensively before making her decision. She smiles and goes with the friendly route, claiming her leg is bothering her and she should sit, anyhow. Charlie thanks her, like Waverly is her property to give away. Suddenly Waverly despises him. 

“I thought you should know,” he says, laughing to himself about whatever Union people find funny, “I’m staying as far away from the punch as possible tonight.”

It’s an odd comment. It’s certainly not what Waverly was expecting him to say. 

Then it hits her. The man she scared so hard last year, when she aimed her arrow for the judges. Someone fell into the punch bowl. She isn’t kind enough to hide her laughter. “That was you?”

Charlie isn’t butt hurt. He’s friendly, and he laughs with her. “Yes, that was me. But it was an amazing shot. You were an impressive competitor, Waverly Earp.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “So good, they had to replace the old Head Gamemaker.”

Waverly eyes him, quickly, but he’s looking away. Pretending he said nothing. She can’t help but fall on the defensive. “So you’re here to threaten me, is that it?”

Charlie looks back at her in a hurry and shakes his head, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “What? No!”

“Then what’s this about?”

“I’m friends with a lot of past victors, Waverly. Fine people.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She considers abandoning this dance, grabbing Nicole, and hiding somewhere else until the evening is over. Then Charlie begins to pull something out of his pocket and she’s paralyzed with the crushing stress of what to do next. Would he really try something in the open like this?

It’s a pocketwatch, and Waverly’s shoulders drop. “I just wanted to show the girl on fire my new fashion statement.”

The golden watch opens, showing Waverly how close they are to midnight. Then he angles it, so slightly, and a mockingjay flashes before disappearing again.

“At midnight,” he continues, “I will leave and return to planning. It’s never too early; these things are planned years and years ahead.”

“Anything special this year?” Waverly asks. If he’s given her information already, she doubts he’ll withhold now. “It’s the 100th Hunger Games, after all.”

“I promise you, it will be something no one will ever forget.” He parts with Waverly, just in time for the song and the dance to end, holding both of her hands by her fingers. “This was fun. Thank you for the dance.” 

Then, just like that, he’s gone as fast as he showed up.

Nicole doesn’t hesitate to ask what that was all about when Waverly sits with her. Waverly doesn’t answer, because she’s not entirely sure, herself. The Head Gamemaker, randomly appearing and giving her secrets, then disappearing before she can say or do anything about it. The mockingjay means he’s on her side. Charlie said he’s befriended victors. He’s on her side, but for what? What else is out there, waiting for her to fight now?

She doesn’t want to think about that right now. It’s her last night with Nicole, as far as they know, and she wants to be with her in this moment. “Does your leg actually hurt?”

“Like crazy.” Nicole shrugs it off, like it’s nothing. “Not really a big deal, though.”

Waverly removes them from the crowded dance floor and out to a bench on the balcony. It’s the same balcony the tributes will see at the end of the Opening Ceremonies, before they descend into the Training Center. It’s the first place she met Nicole Haught, stealing a sugar cube from a horse. 

Partygoers leave them alone, because  _ Aw, they’re so cute! Let them have this moment, they’re engaged! _ and other invasive nonsense Waverly fights to ignore. She looks back out, below, and finds the ghost of those chariots. The ghost of that day, playing back in her mind. Nicole Haught, winking at her. Nicole Haught, plotting and plotting. Waverly rejected her, and Nicole still carried her to safety. Fought the bear mutt. Pulled her from the closing arena, and defended her against more mutts. She picked herself up from the abyss, and put herself together to get them through this tour. Now they’re engaged, and Nicole accepts her tied fate with Waverly under Clootie’s games.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Nicole pauses. “Wait, what? What for?”

She’s so enthusiastic about it, and it makes Waverly smile. “Just. Thank you. For getting your shit together. Or at least pretending to.”

“I shouldn’t have been so stupid in the first place.” Nicole becomes sad with it. Ashamed. Guilty. She looks away from Waverly, apparently because she can’t stand what she’s done. “I was selfish. I was so selfish.”

“That was my strategy in the games, you know. To be selfish. But I just—I couldn’t—I couldn’t seem to get away from you. Uh, not in like a weird, creepy—”

“I do know how to  _ reel them in _ .” 

It’s a long moment of quiet staring and Nicole laughing at her own joke before Waverly shakes her head. “That was absolutely terrible.” She lets Nicole finish her giggling before she continues. “You’re just—you’re different, Nicole. There is something different about you. No matter how hard I tried to follow Wynonna’s advice, to stay selfish and take care of myself, I couldn’t leave you behind. You’re special.”

“You’re the special one. You are. There’s something about you, too. The second I saw you.”

“You mean when you stole a sugar cube from a horse?”

Nicole laughs again, so hard it makes Waverly smile. “Yes, when I stole from a horse. Look, I’ve never had anyone in my life before, Waverly. All the kids in school thought I was a freak. The other fishermen thought I was a freak because I used to catch more than they did and they were jealous assholes. No one’s ever stood up for me, and there’s no way in hell anyone back home would bother to save my life. Three times, Waverly. You’ve saved my life three times, and I can never repay you. You’re the first person I’ve cared about in a long, long time.”

“Are we going to do it?” Waverly lowers her voice. “Are we really going to run away? Can we do that?”

“We can do anything, Waverly. Sorry you’ll be leaving all your horses and animals behind.”

“They’ll be okay.” Honestly, it’s the least of Waverly’s concern right now. “It’ll take some convincing to get Wynonna out of there forever, but I can do it. I think she really likes working the land.”

“Tell me about your farm.” Nicole looks around, eyeing the inside of the mansion, where the party is very much still alive. “We’ve got time.”

“Honestly? I don’t really pay it much attention. I’m always in the library or in my studio. Wynonna handles most of everything, but I think that’s because she’s not used to doing nothing all day. Even though she spends most of the day doing nothing. Whatever she needs, I buy it. I’m happy to spend the money. I don’t want it. It feels like a handout from Clootie and I hate every dime I have. I know that’s horrible to say, but—”

“Mine makes me feel like another one of these people. Too much food than I know what to do with. Enough to just throw it all up, apparently.”

Waverly turns, inching closer to Nicole. Keeping her voice down. “Do you really think there’s uprisings in the Sectors? I mean, Rachel’s home was bad. Can you imagine that happening everywhere?”

“Not like a lot of people were happy to see two more victors from the games, preaching togetherness in their faces. Is that what Clootie told you? About uprisings?”

“He implied it. I think he’s scared. And if he’s scared . . .”

Nicole finishes, “Then something is happening.” But it didn’t go so well last time. The Union completely obliterated Sector 6. Left them in a crater.”

“People can be persistent when they’re starving and out of options.” Maybe it’s why Charlie said the games were going to be the best yet this year. Keep the upper class citizens happy, and remind the lower class why they shouldn’t go through with this. Why they should be afraid. 

“Speaking of persistent . . .” Nicole looks around, before suddenly reaching for her own collar and undoing the top two buttons of her shirt.

“Hey,” Waverly panics, covering Nicole with her hands, “I know we’re trying to sell something, but I’m pretty sure—”

“Relax Earp, I’m not trying to start an orgy with the president.” She looks around again, and Waverly follows her eyes to Kate. Talking with a group of people, Doc by her side. She doesn’t look completely repulsed by him. For now. “Top buttons are for people who hate breathing air. Take that, Kate!”

“Ironic, coming from someone who spends her time swimming.”

Nicole laughs. “Maybe I’ll start another fashion trend. Apparently the fake limbs aren’t doing it for them.”

Waverly looks back on the party. The arrangement of red hair. Gold accessories gleaming in the mansion’s many chandeliers and diamond encrusted lamps. The sleeveless shirts. She even sees one or two braids among the sea of people. “Something tells me they won’t need much convincing otherwise.”

-

They’re exhausted by the time they get back to the train. They manage to hide on the balcony for much longer into the night, and Waverly listens to stories about Nicole outdoing her fellow workers on the boats with her incredible fishing luck. Nicole claims fishing is half skill, half luck, and she has more luck than skill. Waverly thinks she has it backwards, but she doesn’t want to interrupt the stories.

Finally, they have true privacy on the train, alone in Waverly’s room. Nicole lays on her side and stares at Waverly. Waverly lays on her side and stares at Nicole. Waverly feels like she’s poured out her heart enough on this tour, but has a feeling she still has so much left to say. 

Nicole’s presence is calming to her. Solid, protective. Waverly’s felt it before, in her sister, but this is different. She wants this feeling to swallow her up and hold her for the rest of her life. But, come morning, they will be going their separate ways when the train arrives in Waverly’s home first. 

“It’s our last night together,” Waverly says. She sees Nicole’s dimple flash again. 

“What should we do? Got any other books?”

Waverly doesn’t answer right away. She stares at Nicole, finding her answer here. “I just want to lay here with you.”

“Then let’s lay here.”

The night passes, but Waverly doesn’t sleep. She watches Nicole as the blinking of her eyes eventually slows, and they close for hours. Waverly can’t close her own. She wants to stay in this moment, before more trials present themselves to her. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. How long it’ll be before their plan brings them back together again, forever. 

The goodbye they film at the train station feels real. Genuine. They kiss, and read some line about how their love will keep them together, no matter the distance. They grit their teeth as they thank the president for allowing them to do this tour together, before hugging and going their separate ways. 

Nicole smells like soap, shampoo, and nothing else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely one of my favorite chapters. My favorite favorite is coming up very soon--16.
> 
> I know this was a super long one, but I really didn’t want to separate it. This chapter feels like it’s in a universe of its own, and I didn’t want to interrupt that. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. The next chapter is way shorter, and will follow Purgatory as some new changes arrive.


	15. Chapter 15

Waverly’s victory brings Parcel Day for her home. Extra packages of food, and less patients suffering from starvation on their kitchen table. Every time she sees a new patient, Waverly thinks to invest in a new cabin. A mini hospital, of sorts. 

Today, at the end of the tour celebrating her win, the Union will pay for food for everyone, and everyone will celebrate the deaths of 18 fallen tributes. The Harvest Festival is all about celebration, and she finds herself at yet another dinner with yet another mayor, her own. This time Wynonna is by her side. 

That is, until Wynonna gets drunk and starts wandering around the mayor’s home. Waverly’s never hunted her sister before. She’s grateful all Nicole did drunk was either stare at the wall or shout conspiracies. 

She finds her sister upstairs, in the mayor’s personal office, and she has to fight an angry and horrified scream. If someone finds them trespassing—

Wynonna isn’t drunk. She lied. She studies the television in the room, and Waverly is ready to scold her. Then she looks for herself. It isn’t goofy cartoons or any of the sitcoms Wynonna watches at home. 

It’s Sector 3. It’s Rachel’s home, and it’s on fire. Citizens fight Peacekeepers, who attempt to shoot them down. Rocks, planks, and all sorts of debris are thrown back at them, and Peacekeepers aren’t equipped with helmets to keep from getting hit in the eyes. 

Sector 3 is rioting. The uprisings aren’t stopping.

Waverly and Nicole failed.

“Clootie did threaten you. I knew it! He’s using you and Nicole to shut this shit down!”

Wynonna Earp never got straight As in school, but she was never stupid. 

There wasn’t much talking when Waverly returned home. Her Union designers talked over all conversation she attempted to have, gushing about Waverly and Nicole and how sad it is they aren’t in the same home together. Wynonna never had a good reaction to Nicole’s name. Waverly thought she was mad about the proposal. She wasn’t mad. She was suspicious. 

“Wynonna,” Waverly whispers frantically, “you can’t be in here! Let’s go!”

“Hell no! We’re gonna talk about this!” She begins to laugh, excited, like great things are happening out there right now. “Don’t you see this? Sector 3 is rebelling! There’s rebellion in the Sectors!”

Waverly just comes right out and says it. “Yes, and we’re leaving in the morning for the woods! Before something terrible happens!”

The smile on Wynonna’s face dies so quickly, so suddenly, it puts Waverly on edge. They’re about to argue. “I raised you better than that. You’re running away?”

“ _ We _ are running away! Don’t you get it, Wynonna? Clootie’s going to punish us! Punish you! He told me to stop this from happening, and now it’s all worse!”

“Sector 5 is next, Waverly. You know we are. How are we supposed to leave now? We need to stay! We need to fight! Come on, kid, what’re you doing?”

“I’m saving your life, is what I’m doing. I know you think the Peacekeepers here are our friends, but they’re not. The second Clootie tells them to pull the trigger, they won’t hesitate.”

Wynonna steps closer and grabs the sides of Waverly’s shoulders. “This is the only way to really run away, Waverly. We destroy the assholes that’re making our lives a miserable hell, and we’ll be free forever! Come on!”

“I’m not doing this. This is suicide, and I’m not burying you.” Waverly wiggles out of Wynonna’s grip. “We’re going to the woods, and we’re getting out of here before things get terrible.”

“Children starving in the street isn’t terrible?”

Waverly doesn’t have an answer to that.

“This isn’t about what happens to us. It’s about the entire country, Waverly. There are other people out there—”

“What happened to being selfish?”

Wynonna scoffs. “I cannot believe what I'm hearing right now.” Wynonna turns to leave, straightening out her formal attire for the sake of the sensitive Union folks who will watch her, Waverly’s sister, like television. “I think I need some air.”

This is code for the woods. Waverly sneaks out of the party and heads back to the Victor’s Village.

-

Everything has a place, and a purpose. There’s nothing wasteful in the house. The wood tables sparkle under the bright lighting of the home, and the fences holding in a small herd of goats are perfect. A horse greets Waverly when she arrives at the small cabin, and it tells her Dolls is still at his home. 

He doesn’t live in the two-story castle awarded to him. Dolls has told Waverly the quiet space is too loud for him, because he knows she’s the only other person in Sector 5 who will ever understand what that’s like and what it even means. So he lives here, in a tiny cabin he built himself in the middle of his hundreds of acres of land. Kept in perfect condition despite the depressive state she often finds him in. She also often finds Wynonna in here, but she’s never bothered to discuss it. It’s often the only time she ever finds Dolls happy and smiling, anyway, so who is she to pry?

Dolls makes her tea the second she walks through the door, but Waverly doesn’t bother with it. It’s quiet here. Away from the partying in town. She takes the chance to tell Dolls her plan to run away with Nicole, and the fact she wants him to go with her.

He’s her mentor. It’s his job to push her, to make her think unlike any other would in her situation. He makes her a better tribute, a better victor, a better person. He tells her the truth. Honestly, he’s unsure it’s a good idea. Then he asks, “Do you really, truly  _ want _ to, Waverly? With all the uprisings?”

“Wynonna told me no. She wants to stay and fight. It’s bad out there, Dolls.” 

“I know a few Sector 3 victors. I’ve heard.”

“Nicole and I failed—Clootie’s going to go right after her! I made him mad and he’s going to make me pay!”

Dolls lets her panic, lets her hyperventilate until she calms herself down. The silence only freaks her out more, but she wants to know what he’s going to say and puts on another performance. “Do you think running away is going to make Clootie any happier? He’ll find you, Waverly, no matter where you go. You can go as far as you want. Change your name, change your hair, change whatever. Once you make him upset, he’ll make it his mission to go after you. And the president’s mission is Panem’s mission.”

It’s everything she fears he was going to say. 

“You said Wynonna said no?” He asks. Waverly nods silently. “She wants you to stay and fight?”

“She’s disappointed in me, is what she said. But yes, she wants to fight. She thinks Sector 5 might be next to rebel.”

“It’s possible,” Dolls agrees, “but we don’t have the numbers. I don’t think people are going to go along with it just yet.”

“What about the ones who will?”

“Everyone has a Wynonna in their life. They’ll be okay.” 

Dolls stands, and Waverly follows him out the door and to his horse. She didn’t bring her own. She wanted to walk here, give herself some time to think. 

“Go patch things with your sister. Where is she?”

“The woods,” Waverly sighs. “It’s where either of us go when we’re upset.”

“Okay.” Dolls helps her up, and takes them for the ride. “We’ll cross through town. It’ll be faster.”

-

There’s something about the town. The celebrations have died, curiously, and the energy changes to an unsettling feeling that makes Waverly anxious. 

Dolls finds the main road crowded, and no one is paying enough attention to move on their own. The crowd stares in the same direction, and Waverly tunes her senses to realize someone is shouting. A second longer, and she hears something cracking. 

That voice . . .

The way the people are eyeing her . . .

The persistence they have, telling her to turn around and go home . . .

Waverly dismounts the horse and pushes through the crowd. She has to be hearing things. It can’t be. There’s no way—

She emerges from the crowd, and sees clearly the horrifying image in front of her. 

The Justice Building stares down at them as it happens, and Waverly is reminded here, in this place, in this world she’s stuck in, there is no real justice. There is endless, ongoing, infinite punishment, and no matter what she does she fears she’ll never escape it.

Wynonna Earp is in the middle of the square, restrained to a whipping post. A man Waverly has never seen before is wielding the weapon that turns her sister’s bare back into an unrecognizable red chunk of meat, whipping her over and over again until she’s finally fallen unconscious. He’s wearing the uniform the Head Peacekeeper would normally wear, and for a second Waverly thinks he’s an imposter.

She sees a dead groosling nailed to the top of the post. Wynonna used to sell Head Peacekeeper Cryderman groosling. It was better than the other girls who slept with him for money. 

Where the hell is Cryderman? How long has this man been here?

She passes by Pete York, scarred across his face in multiple areas. He was whipped as well. He’s the Peacekeeper that used to flirt with Wynonna in the market. Did he try to intervene?

Intervene. She needs to intervene. She can solve all these mysteries later.

The new Head Peacekeeper isn’t much for words, and punches Waverly in the eye when she runs in between her sister and his weapon. She falls backwards with the force of it, landing on the ground right next to Wynonna. Waverly tries desperately to look away, but she can’t, not until she gathers the strength to fight against this stranger who beats her sister. He punches her down again in the same spot before lashing at her leg to convince her to stay still.

Waverly tries to collect herself, to remember where she is in the universe, but there’s nothing but the burning and stinging of her leg and eye. She hears someone else run onto the scene, in frantic steps, and she doesn’t have to open her eyes to tell who it is. 

“That’s enough, man,” Xavier Dolls says. The foe he stands up to doesn’t budge.

“Get out of the way, or I’ll beat you, too.”

“Don’t you know who that is? The two of them, they’re the Earp sisters. As in Waverly Earp. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Waverly hears the man spit. She assumes either at Dolls’s feet or at her sister. “What do I care about some celebrity?”

“You ought to care about this one. The president does, a lot, and you’ve just scarred her face before the big wedding shoot. Not looking good for you, man.”

He hesitates, in such a way Waverly forces her untouched eye open to see what’s going on. She gets a better look at him. Tall man, with short hair and a thick beard. He has a wide build and he looks well fed. Strong. Some of her sister’s blood decorates his face. “Hunting on Union property is a crime. I’m not letting her walk away because her sister is a celebrity. I bring law and order to this town. It’s my job!”

A Peacekeeper steps up from behind him. It’s Pete York’s brother, Kyle. He looks just as terrified as Waverly feels. “Mr. Clayborn, sir, she’s met the lashes for the crime. You wouldn’t be letting her go.”

Waverly watches the man’s eyes. Head Peacekeeper Clayborn. He stares into Kyle York until Kyle looks away in nervous terror, then he examines Wynonna. Looks at Waverly, and it sends nerves down her spine. Finally, he ends with Dolls, splattering the blood from the whip at him before rolling it up and walking away. 

It’s a race back to the homestead from here. Some townsfolk help Dolls and Waverly get Wynonna onto the horse, and they ride across the plains directly onto the porch of the homestead. Waverly practically kicks the door down and screams for Willa. In a flash, everything on the kitchen table is being thrown away and all three of them are lifting Wynonna up. She begins to wake up now, and tries to fight everyone off like nothing has happened and she’s alright.

In the middle of the chaos Willa stops and grabs Waverly’s face. It’s the softest she’s ever gripped Waverly. A wonderful contrast from the constant attitude and arguments about absolutely nothing.

“Your eye will be fine. Go outside and get some snow to apply to it.”

Then she walks away, calmly, ready to assess Wynonna. Waverly watches her, and there’s nothing in her expression. She doesn’t freak out. Doesn’t curse anyone or anything. Just inspects Wynonna and asks Dolls to hold her down as she washes off the extensive horror movie wounds with a jug of water.

Willa has Dolls continue to distract Wynonna, to keep her from wanting to do anything rash. From squirming around on the table, which she’s nearly fallen off of twice already. Waverly can’t move from where she stands at the door. She watches Willa make up some kind of numbing concoction, while Wynonna struggles with her pain. Willa takes her sweet damned time, and it causes Waverly to yell, “Hurry up! You’re hurting her!”

“Don’t rush me,” Willa shoots back.

“Well move a little faster, at least! I mean—”

There’s a knock at the door that shuts Waverly up, instantly. Dolls wonders aloud if it’s Peacekeepers. He tells her to leave it, but she doesn’t listen. If they’re at the door, right now, after what just happened, she’s willing to host a riot of her own, right here.

The door is kicked open again, and Waverly finds herself snarling at absolutely nothing. She thinks she sees someone on the property, far away, and growing smaller, but she doesn’t investigate. There’s a package on the doorstep. In a silver container. She picks it up, thinking of the games, and finds angel’s wings carved into the silver on the outside and the inside. 

On the inside is medication.

It’s suspicious, but Willa deems the substance safe and injects it into Wynonna’s back. Wynonna collapses, unconscious again, and Willa starts properly cleaning the wounds before ordering Waverly and Dolls to start grabbing towels and layering snow all about her torso. What’s left of the last storm is melting outside, but they gather a fair amount to satisfy Willa. Waverly is grateful it snowed at all.

Night falls and brings the Harvest Festival to a close. An eventful holiday, certainly. Dolls takes the guest room already set up for him, their only guest, and Willa disappears somewhere else in the house. Waverly can’t move from the table. The last time she separated from Wynonna, she found Wynonna tied to a post. 

Someone hurriedly explained to Waverly as they were scraping Wynonna off the concrete. Lashed 40 times for trying to sell a groosling she hunted to what she was expecting to be the old Head Peacekeeper, Cryderman. Clayborn is new, if Wynonna didn’t know about him. Brand new. Shipped in today, probably. Cryderman was never a good man, but Waverly still wonders what happened to him. Hunting is a crime, yes, but he never had Wynonna whipped for it. 

What kind of system starves their people and punishes them for trying to eat? For standing up for themselves and surviving?

That’s just it. They don’t want people standing up. Fighting. Surviving. They want to shove their faces in the dirt and parade around the victors of the games they use to terrify these people, to keep them in line. To keep them from rebelling. Waverly and Nicole weren’t made to erase this. They were made to hide what was really happening, to distract people from the truth while the Union silently dealt with it. Erase the uprisings before they could go anywhere.

Waverly vows to take these uprisings as far as she possibly can. 

Wynonna wakes some time during the night, and Waverly nearly jumps out of her seat with excitement. That part of her, terrified her sister will never wake up again, sees itself out the door. 

“Hey,” she says, breathlessly. Wynonna smiles back at her.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Wynonna tries to raise up and out of her uncomfortable position face down, but pain pierces through her and forces her back into place. Waverly grabs her hand and squeezes it. “Whips are not kinky. Those TV shows lied.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. But at least I got to flash everyone in town, right? Free show!” 

Waverly can’t help but laugh. 

“Guess I ruined your runaway plans, huh?” Wynonna forces herself to laugh. “Take that, sucker.”

Waverly shakes her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying. I’m seeing this through.”

“Right on, kid.” Wynonna smiles, and the blue shine from her eyes disappears as she shuts them again. 

Waverly doesn’t move. She’s staying here, by her sister, forever. It’s the games all over again. She’s going to give everything she can to protect Wynonna, the same way Wynonna’s given her life to protect Waverly.

-

Loud knocking at the door forces Waverly’s head to fall out of her hands and smack her forehead into the table. Immediate wake up call. The knocking persists, growing in aggression the more and more she makes them wait. A part of her wants to test this guest, to see if they’ll try and force it down. They don’t, and she grabs the door before they can wake Wynonna.

She sees the white uniforms of the Peacekeepers first. Then the red gloves and the red boots. Then she sees red hair, in the middle of the five who stand at her door.

Nicole Haught is in Sector 5.

The Peacekeeper in the front, the jerk who was impatient with the door, identifies a letter with the Union’s stamp on it. “By order of President Clootie, the two victors of the 99th Hunger Games, Nicole R. Haught and Waverly Earp, are hereby ordered to share residency within the borders of Sector 5. His intention is to preserve their relationship and protect it from the harm of distance.” 

They eyeball Waverly, who’s still not awake enough to answer. She finds Nicole behind this officer, shrugging. Waverly looks back at the Peacekeeper. “Wait, what?”

There’s a long, annoyed sigh before the answer is handed to her. “President Clootie is ordering Nicole Haught to live here with you, because you are engaged. The citizens asked for it. Have a good day.”

They leave, giving Waverly no room to ask questions. So she stares at Nicole for them, instead. “Clootie took the bait?”

Nicole nods. “Clootie took the bait. I was kind of afraid you were in the woods by now.”

“Something came up. Change of plans.”

Nicole agrees, pointing out Waverly’s eye with a worrisome expression, “Big change.” She takes a moment to look around, and Waverly doesn’t do anything more than stare. Nicole Haught is actually, really in Sector 5. “Aren’t you gonna let me into your fancy farmhouse, Ms. Earp?”

Waverly steps aside, grabbing some of the bags behind Nicole. She helps Nicole Haught of Sector 4 move into her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holt fell in my lap just in time to be the PERFECT douche for this scene. 
> 
> IDK how all three of them were on the horse, but listen… look… I’m only here for fish girl Nicole,,,
> 
> Look I can put Nicole through it. That’s fine. Waverly--sure. Main character's burden and whatever. But Wynonna? I was in TEARS
> 
> Thank you for reading. Next chapter is super long, but a personal favorite. We will follow Waverly and Nicole as they navigate living in Sector 5 together. It is the primary reason I redrew the District lines and changed it to "Sector".
> 
> I didn't forget to upload on time this week *roaring applause*


	16. Chapter 16

“He whipped her for that?”

Waverly nods. Nicole’s expression twists into more confusion.

“That doesn’t make any sense. People in 4 used to catch their own food all the time.”

“It wasn’t on Sector 5 territory,” Waverly counters. It was in the woods. The woods are blocked off—Union territory.”

Nicole argues, “Union boats.”

Waverly catches another glimpse of her sister and suddenly feels sick to her stomach about this discussion. She doesn’t really care about the reason. She doesn’t want to debate why Clayborn did it, or why he’s even here. Waverly failed on the tour—that’s why he’s here. 

Nicole hears her sigh and tables the discussion as well. Waverly longs for Nicole to change the subject for her, but she doesn’t. Nicole looks tired, like they woke her up in the middle of the night to start moving here. 

Waverly thinks to ask her about her middle name, the “R” initial the Peacekeeper at the door mentioned, but Willa enters the room and presents something new. 

With Willa here, Waverly stands up and motions Nicole to do the same. This is the first time they’ll meet. The Earp sisters will finally meet the random Sector 4 girl Waverly teamed up with in the games and recently agreed to marry. 

It goes about as well as Waverly expects of Willa. Nicole extends the olive branch, and Willa turns her nose. Waverly catches her staring at Nicole’s leg and decides it’s time to show their new resident the property. 

They walk the land, no horses. Half of the day is already gone, and Waverly contemplates spending the rest of it here, walking with Nicole. She shows her the barns. The stables. Every one of the horses. She has Nicole feed Wynonna’s horse a carrot, and makes a note to never forget the awe on Nicole’s face when the animal eats from her palm. Waverly wants to make a dozen jokes about the sugar cube, but she leaves it alone. 

Winter is on the horizon, and the days are shortening. Waverly cuts the tour short and finishes everything in the greenhouse. 

Not very many buildings in Purgatory are perfectly sound. Storms blow in often, and take parts of roofs with them like it’s their job. The barns are somewhat patched with wooden planks. Wynonna’s only ever bothered fixing the stables. By far, the greenhouse is in the worst shape. Just in time for them to use it all winter long.

The giant hole in the roof is the first thing Nicole sees. “Creative skylight,” she jokes.

“Very funny.” Waverly leans on one of the walls and feels the wood creak with it. “There’s a reason Fish picked all the fire themes for me and Alex, remember?”

“Purgatory storms,” Nicole recalls.

Waverly nods. “Purgatory is always experiencing some kind of storm. We get thunder like crazy. Wildfires—”

“Hence the fire angel.”

“Exactly. That’s why they call it ‘Purgatory’. I think back in the day it was called Montana? Canada?”

“Montanada,” Nicole declares. She grins that stupid goofy grin, the contageous one Waverly can’t ignore. “It’s catchy.”

Waverly watches her for a moment as she walks around, inspecting the hole from all angles. The debris that destroyed it was removed long ago. That’s as far as they got on repairs. 

“Okay,” Nicole says after a long silence, “I’ll fix it.”

“What? Do you even know how to fix it?”

“Have a little faith, Earp. Come on, let me take care of it. I live here, too, now. Put me to work!”

There’s little to argue with here. If Nicole wants to do it so badly, Waverly should let her. Wynonna never trusted anyone else to do repairs on their property, anyway. Never got to it, herself, either. The barns need help. The fencing around the property. The barn, the stables, all the pens for all the animals who live here. 

Waverly agrees with a simple shrug. “Every tribute needs a hobby, right?”

-

When the sun goes down, the pair finishes settling Nicole in. Just in time for Wynonna to wake up and start wandering the house when she’s supposed to be laying down. 

Wandering, shirtless. 

Waverly’s hand flies over Nicole’s eyes while she frantically shoos Wynonna off. It doesn’t help. Wynonna thinks it’s funny, and she stands around to make conversation while Nicole stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, Waverly’s hands protecting her from certain doom.

“How’s it goin’, lovers?” she asks. “Saw you poking around my barn. I really hope you didn’t bone in front of my—”

Willa swoops in behind Wynonna and forces her into a robe, flicking Wynonna in the forehead before disappearing again. Waverly finally removes her hands from Nicole’s eyes when she’s certain Wynonna won’t rip the robe off just to spite Willa.

“You must be Wynonna Earp,” Nicole says. A small part of Waverly fears Nicole is annoyed, but she looks amused. “It’s kind of awesome to meet you in person. Waverly talks about you a lot.”

Wynonna pours herself a glass of whiskey and raises the glass to Nicole. “You’re damn right.”

Nicole stares a little too long at the liquor and Waverly dives onto another subject. Something that’ll keep Nicole distracted. “Nicole wants to help out on the farm. With the fences and the greenhouse.”

Wynonna looks to Nicole. “You’re going to fix my fences?” Nicole nods, and Wynonna sighs. “Thank god for lesbians.”

Wynonna spends the entire dinner talking to Nicole about the farm. Where to go. What to do, what not to do. Willa reminds Wynonna she can’t be doing physical labor and Nicole promises to watch her. 

Waverly lasts about five minutes before her mind takes her someplace else. Nicole is here. Clayborn is in town, as the new Head Peacekeeper. If Waverly failed on the tour, why is Clootie rewarding her by sending Nicole to live here? If Clayborn is here, that means Clootie is, in fact, mad. 

It isn’t a reward. It can’t be. Someone pressured him into doing it. Waverly’s performance on the victory tour  _ did _ work, then—the Union citizens were demanding them to be together, and he sent Nicole here to cover his ass. 

Waverly did convince the people, but it wasn’t enough. She loses her appetite halfway through the meal. 

Things are about to get far, far worse for Purgatory.

-

Something about packing all of Nicole’s things alongside Waverly’s things has her grinning like a fool. Waverly doesn’t understand why. It’s just their stuff, together, here, in one spot, side by side. Not like she’s been thinking about this exact scenario since they were sent their separate ways.

Waverly and Nicole, together, finish their night out by going to Waverly’s extensive library. It’s the size of the stables outside, and Nicole spends the first two minutes staring at everything in the room. Everything Waverly has collected. She has Nicole pick out a book before they go to bed. Together. In the same place. Nicole Haught is  _ in _ Sector 5.

Waverly reads, all the way until both their eyes are heavy and focusing becomes an effort. The blankets are warm and the body next to her is warmer, and Waverly finds herself drifting into a deep slumber. 

Then she feels the body next to her, shifting uncomfortably and exhaling repeatedly in further discomfort. Nicole turns on her side, away from Waverly, and Waverly can hear Nicole’s fingers scratching at the sheets. 

Waverly settles closer. Nicole is laying fully face down now, and Waverly rests her head between Nicole’s shoulders. She works her left hand between Nicole’s clenched fist, breathing with her until Nicole relaxes and Waverly feels the tension leave her body. 

She reaches up and kisses the back of Nicole’s neck before whispering, “Now shut up.”

They hold this position until morning, when Waverly plays with Nicole’s fingers until she fully wakes. She notices Nicole is abnormally warm and it sends her back to the games. 

Waverly jumps up in a panic, inspecting Nicole all over. “Nicole, you’re really hot.”

Nicole laughs where she’s buried her face into the bed. “I’m Rayleigh Haught.”

“No, Nicole, you’re—wait, is your middle name Rayleigh? That’s what the ‘R’ is?” Waverly’s the one laughing now. “Oh my god, that’s so terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s—” Waverly isn’t really sorry, the way she laughs for another five minutes. Nicole buries her face further into the pillow and it causes Waverly to settle down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Are you sick? Willa can—”

The realization hits her like a train, and she feels like the dumbest person alive. 

“Nicole, how long have you been going through withdrawals?”

She watches Nicole bury her face into the pillow again. “A while,” she mumbles. “But it’s getting worse.”

“Come on, you.” 

Waverly flips Nicole over. Drags her out of bed and down the stairs, where Willa chats with Wynonna. Waverly sits Nicole down and points at her until Willa grabs her tools and examines Nicole. 

Willa goes about her job, mumbling about how Nicole’s blood pressure is high and other words Waverly can’t piece together with the low volume. She does hear something about interrupting Willa’s breakfast, but she couldn’t care less. 

“Go get started on the repairs,” Willa tells Nicole. “You’re going to need the distraction.”

Willa begins to walk off after that. From the dining table, she watches as Nicole trips over herself getting down from one of the stools by the island in the kitchen. Willa stares at Nicole until she realizes Waverly’s caught her, and tells Nicole to be careful. In that annoying Willa tone Waverly’s never been fond of. 

Waverly doesn’t get another blissful, peaceful day alone with Nicole. Wynonna sends Willa with them to make sure Nicole’s doing all the million things Wynonna talked her through last night properly. 

Chickens. Horses. Cows. Pigs. Make sure the roof in the barns didn’t cave in overnight. Willa pays half attention to everything before declaring Nicole smart enough to handle her own and disappearing.

They’ve stopped in the stables. Waverly tells Nicole she’s special ordered tools, and Nicole wants to observe more of the fence. 

The horses are staring right at them.

“Want to take Lady for a ride?” Waverly asks. Nicole’s eyes light up again, in that same awe as yesterday.

Nicole leans closer to Waverly and answers, hushed, like she’ll scare the horse with the information, “Fuck yes I want to ride the horse.”

It’s such a drastic change, Waverly doesn’t know what to do with it. She’s not used to being the brave one in their dynamic. The one in charge, standing against danger. Nicole holds onto her for dear life as they go about the property. Nicole promises it’s all okay, and it makes Waverly laugh. 

This is the first time Waverly ever bothers to help out on the farm. Nicole goes about the tasks Wynonna listed out for her so naturally, like she’s done all of this before. Even when she’s looking at the fence, piecing together what she’ll need to fix it, Waverly feels like she’s watching a professional.

Not much for Nicole to do without the tools, other than make plans on how to fix all the breaks courtesy of Purgatory storms. Waverly takes them all around the property, showing Nicole every little thing in more detail than the previous tour. Including her studio in a far corner of the land. 

Waverly decides to take them inside. She wants to show Nicole what she’s truly been doing these past few months. 

When the doors open, flashes of color shine into both their eyes. Bright yellows, light blues, and red. So much red it swallows the sea around it in a violent hold. 

Nicole stares at the paintings, silent for several minutes as she observes the real work Waverly has been putting in these past few months. The only thing that’s been getting Waverly out of bed, every day, often in addictive demand. She’s spent hours in here. Wynonna’s had to drag her out, some days when she’s too far lost in the process to be removed. 

“It’s the games,” Nicole whispers. 

The view from the trees Waverly sat in. The pond that saved her life. All 17 of them, standing on their podiums. The training gym. The Careers, huddled under the tree they hunted Waverly to. Rachel. The bear. Rachel and Nicole at the stream. Rachel and Nicole at the stream. Rachel and Nicole at the stream . . .

There’s one Waverly has covered, hidden away from the world. No one ever needs to see those wolf mutts ever again. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Nicole says, “I love them. But it’s terrible, seeing the games again.”

Waverly looks around the room one more time. There are only one or two paintings that aren’t of the games. She tells Nicole, “It’s all I see. Every minute of the day—I just can’t get the damned games out of my head.”

Nicole’s fingers begin to fidget again. “I guess it’s a good thing we have each other, then.”

Under Clootie’s watch, they’ll have each other for as long as the people demand it.

-

Blue angel wings, folded in themselves. The symbol is here, and Waverly is trying to understand why. Are they making fun of her, or is this something greater?

Does this have anything to do with the uprisings? It would explain why Clootie was so quick to try and shut her down . . .

Waverly places the box inside and plans to head into town. Business as usual, pre-Nicole era. She’ll head into town, spend some time in the woods, then spend the rest of the day in the studio. Then Waverly catches Willa staring at Nicole’s leg again, and suddenly she’s dragging Nicole with her into town as well. Whatever Willa’s about to start, Waverly does not have the patience for it. 

Her heart sinks when Nicole mentions it on the horse as they ride over, through the meadows. She wants to know if she did something wrong, and Waverly feels herself growing with rage. 

“Don’t mind Willa. Ever. Okay?”

Nicole’s fingers fidget again, where she holds onto Waverly. They can’t be ignored; Waverly notices. “Okay.”

“Let me tell you about where we’re going.” It’s probably best to change the subject. Willa has never been one of Waverly’s favorite subjects, anyhow. “There’s a farmer’s market in Purgatory, where Wynonna and I have been getting most of our goods for years. It’s where I used to get books. I would—”

Suddenly, Waverly finds herself yanking on the reins for her horse to halt. 

Smoke is coming from town. 

Smoke is coming from the farmer’s market.

They ride faster, as fast as the horse is willing to go. Dark clouds cover the sky, and the black gets worse the closer they get. Waverly was not mistaken—the farmer’s market is really, truly, actually on fire.

Waverly and Nicole dismount the horse and run in. Stands are burning. People are trying to run out and away from the flames. Waverly overhears someone say they’re not sure how or where the fire even started. One minute it was business as usual, the next there was a giant flame eating everything in its path and choking everyone’s airways. 

These are all the people Waverly grew up with. She sees the Old Woman on the ground, so frail and weak that Nicole has to lift her up and run her far away from the smoke.

It goes like this for several minutes. The few people in Purgatory who own horses run in with buckets of water. Waverly leaves the scene for a few minutes to get her personal carriage and starts running loads of people back to her homestead. 

One of the laps, she sees Clayborn in the background. Not helping. Watching. He’s convinced everyone this was thanks to a lightning strike, but no one actually saw a lightning strike.

It was intentional, and Waverly throws all the blame to Clootie.

This is only the beginning. It isn’t just the farmer’s market they shut down and block off. They take down every farming field in Purgatory for “fire safety hazards”. Clayborn personally clears the fields, riding on a horse as people work and shooting his pistol into the air to scare them away. Wynonna remembers the year half of the field was on fire, and they still expected the people on the other half to keep working. 

All the blame goes to Clootie. Things get worse in an instant. The shutdowns last two weeks, and the starvation goes up to levels Waverly has never seen it before. The homestead is overflowing with new guests. She allows everyone to stay inside and get treated, but there’s no real way to treat starvation other than with food. Even with all this new money, Waverly is having trouble helping with that, too. 

Clootie ordered Nicole’s physical therapy to end the day she returned from the tour, despite the fact she still isn’t walking properly. Now this. Lighting the farmer’s market on fire and shutting down the entire town. 

How far will he go to tear them down? He’s only giving the people a reason to rebel!

There isn’t much Wynonna can do while she’s still recovering, but she attempts to help Nicole in the greenhouse with what few crops they can work with in there. Waverly abandons her usual activities and helps get all the holes in the building patched. Willa is going through medicines like nothing. Prices on food are going up. Waverly hopes Parcel Day will save them all. Her victory brings her home food every few weeks, but they receive spoiled food. All the Union does is shrug their shoulders and blame rats. 

Clayborn is abusing every possible small infraction he can. More public punishments. Arrests. Hangings. He’s bringing a new meaning to the town’s name, and it’s driving Waverly to consider grabbing her bow and dealing with the problem herself. Then she remembers Clootie has no shortage of goons, and sits down like everyone else. Clootie will always have more than them, more power, and they will always be forced to sit back down.

She cannot stand it. Clootie is practically begging for Sector 5 to revolt. Waverly considers that was the plan all along. An excuse to blow them all to nothing.

-

“Look at you, actually helping on the farm.”

“It’s Waverly’s property. She decides when to ‘help’.”

Waverly sneaks out before her sisters can finish the argument. Nicole was sleeping like a rock when Waverly last checked up on her. Perfect opportunity to go about her business. 

Unfortunately, with Nicole here and living in the busy house, Waverly doesn’t find as much solitude in being alone. Maybe it’s just the anxiety President Clootie has injected into her homeland. She turns around after barely an hour and seeks out Nicole and Wynonna. She’s starting to like working on the farm, anyway.

When Waverly hears arguing coming from the barn, she becomes nervous. Something Willa did? Did something happen on the farm? Worst yet—are Wynonna and Nicole not getting along?

Inside, she finds the opposite. Wynonna is trying to get back to work, insisting she’s okay to tend to the farm, but Nicole denies her repeatedly. Nicole cites Willa told her no, and Wynonna starts throwing melted snow at Nicole. 

“You can come back when you can properly toss hay bales!” Nicole protects herself with a wooden plank as another snowball soars for her. 

“I’ve made a cowgirl monster and I’m going to destroy her!” Wynonna throws another snowball, which Nicole easily deflects. “You’ve yee’d your last haw!”

“Waverly, control your sister!” Nicole yells. 

Waverly is left with a choice: help Wynonna, or harass Nicole. They both make compelling arguments. Health and recovery versus pure spite against Willa. 

The spite wins, and eventually Nicole has to defend herself with her own snowballs, chasing the Earp sisters about the barn in the epic battle they’ve created. 

All day, Wynonna tails her. Nicole stops by some of the bigger holes in the fences, and Wynonna lays around, being as obnoxious as possible. She throws more snowballs, makes sound effects, and starts telling the weirdest stories she can think of. She’s trying to annoy Nicole into letting her help, but Nicole actually seems amused by it. 

Waverly turns around for five minutes and finds the pair in the barn again, chatting by the hunting gear Wynonna stashes. No jokes. Nicole is showing Wynonna ways to improve her snares, and Wynonna seems genuinely interested. 

“We’ll have to take a test run in the woods some time,” Wynonna says. “Y’know, when the boss tells me I’m allowed to.”

Nicole has finally gotten her comeback. Waverly sees her plan from the grin on her face. “That means you’ll have to sit around and actually relax and get better, first.”

Wynonna glares at her. “I see why Waverly keeps you around, smart ass.”

Of course, Wynonna doesn’t listen. Waverly still catches her, walking around their land, lifting things when she thinks no one is looking. Wynonna can’t sit around. Sure, she’ll happily set a trap in the woods and spend their hunting time sleeping, but she’s never been one to sit around and let someone else do the work. Protecting Waverly was her life, and now they have all the money and protection in the world. 

Waverly catches Nicole sneaking off to the barn often, and she begins to fear Wynonna is getting to her. Saying something about strangers on her land—the talk she gives everyone who stays more than a day. 

She enters the barn, and she sees her doubts were unfounded. Nicole hides in the corner, behind hay and other supplies, and Waverly catches her in the act. 

The act of feeding a stray cat that has wandered onto their land. The cat is just as red as Nicole’s hair, and stares at Waverly the same way Waverly stares at her. 

“Please tell me we can keep her,” Nicole says. She has that childish expression in her face that makes Waverly smile. “She doesn’t have to go in the house. I’ll feed her myself. She won’t bother—”

“Of course you can keep the cat, Nicole,” Waverly laughs. After everything Clootie did to the last one, Waverly is surprised Nicole is actually excited to get a new one. 

Wynonna is neutral to the cat. The animal is missing one eye and Wynonna dubs her “Calamity Jane”. She’s a harmless animal, and it’ll be good to have the company. Better than the stray pigs they find in the living room.

Willa says no. She doesn’t want animals in the house, and it only inspires Waverly further to invite more pets. Maybe they’ll get a dog!

Despite Willa’s protests of the cat, Waverly still finds her cooking Calamity Jane snacks and petting her when she thinks they’re alone. Willa genuinely looks happy with the change. Then Waverly catches her staring at Nicole’s clumsy walking again and deems Willa heartless again. 

-

Angel symbols greet Waverly on a box again, when she’s trying to make her morning routine. She didn’t order anything. She considers Clayborn is finally sending  _ Get well soon!  _ gifts for Wynonna. It’s all the thought she can put into it before Willa appears and snatches the box away. 

Books. Four or five books detailing physical therapies. Waverly plans to yell at Willa, to tell her Nicole’s leg is none of her business, but Nicole and the cat enter just as everything begins. Wynonna appears somewhere along the line, grabs some tea, and disappears before things get awkward. 

The sight of Nicole, frozen, staring at those books with an embarrassed expression sets Waverly off. “Willa, Nicole’s leg is not your—”

“Aren’t you supposed to care about her?” Willa counteracts. It makes Waverly’s blood boil, clearly, so Willa jumps on the next sentence before she can be interrupted. “The Union did a terrible job with her, and then cut off her physical therapy, and you’re okay with that? With her walking around the house, tripping over everything?”

Of course Waverly isn’t okay with it. Doesn’t mean it’s Willa’s job to order these books and shove them in Nicole’s face. To order these books and expect Nicole to fix all her own problems so Willa can be less annoyed.

Willa actually does shove one of the books in Nicole’s direction, and Nicole has to drop the cat to grab it. “Tuesdays and Fridays. The sitting room is big enough for us to start your sessions. Eat breakfast first. Waverly can take care of the farm.” Willa grabs the rest of the books and stares down Waverly before looking at Nicole again. “We can’t just let the Union give you half treatment and be okay with that. They can’t just get away with that.”

Then, like Willa, she’s off without another word, her new books in hand. Nicole calls after her to thank her, and Willa reminds her not to be late.

Willa is actually going to  _ help _ Nicole get better. Wynonna pokes her head in the room and asks, “Is Willa dying, or something?”

Waverly’s never really considered Willa’s opinion on the Union. They hardly ever talk. Wynonna makes her voice loud and clear. Nicole’s feelings are obvious. But Willa, as usual, is a silent wildcard. Waverly has spent an entire lifetime with her, and she’s not sure she’ll ever understand her. Willa is actually going to devote her own time to strengthening Nicole’s leg and help her get better. For no reason. 

There’s a lot Waverly has left to learn about people, she thinks.

-

Midday, Waverly returns, fighting the blizzard outside for countless hours. A short trip into town turned into a nightmare. She enters her home, fumbling with the books in her hand, to find Nicole, standing in the middle of the room with a suit on. 

The stupid wedding photoshoot. Dolls managed to delay it, but eventually Waverly’s black eye will go away. 

In other news, Waverly has visual confirmation that blue is Nicole’s color. Wynonna whistles at Nicole for the sake of annoying Waverly. Even Willa thinks the blue is perfect. 

They spend the day trying on horribly formal attire, reporting what does and doesn’t need to be fixed to prove they looked at the outfits. The following day the storm blows over and Wynonna decides to lift their spirits with a visit to the woods. 

Waverly is beyond excited to show Nicole. Slightly nervous. This place means everything to her. It’s where she and Wynonna ran away from their problems. It supplied them the literal strength to continue on. The thought of this place, all the time she spent with Wynonna, was one of the things that brought her home. 

Yet, Wynonna seems more excited to show Nicole than Waverly does. “I’m spoken for,” Nicole reminds her as she drags Nicole to her horse.

Wynonna’s grin doesn’t die. “Don’t worry! I’ll turn you to my side, in time.”

Wynonna pushes the horses, apparently trying to race Waverly out to the woods. Nicole looks terrified, and Waverly can’t find the kindness to not laugh at her expression. When their boots hit the floor again, Waverly can barely keep up. Wynonna grabs the snares she’s loaded onto her horse and starts to piece everything together, rushing them throughout the woods. Nicole gets a peek of where they hide their weapons in a specific tree’s trunk before they’re off again. 

Waverly doesn’t blame Wynonna. She’s just as excited to show Nicole everything. This place is magical.

Wynonna shows Nicole how she places her traps. This is a testament to Nicole’s progress with Willa; she is quieter on her feet, more stable. Nicole remembers what Waverly taught her in the arena, and Wynonna is impressed. They take Waverly’s lead for a while, looking for grooslings until retiring at the creek. 

Waverly watches the pair, the two most important people in her life, sitting by the creek. She sees the games again. Nicole and Rachel.

This is the perfect picture. The sun bouncing off the trees and shining into the water. A story from Wynonna, about one of their old hunting trips. Waverly’s sketchbook flies to her grasp and she works to capture this moment before it’s gone. Nicole and Wynonna, fishing by the creek. 

She sits with them, reliving old stories until it’s time to check the traps and head back. Wynonna is pleased with the efficiency with the traps and praises Nicole’s work all the way back home. 

“We need to get you a horse, Haught,” Wynonna says. She turns back to Waverly as they stroll through the prairies. “Every member of the family gets one, right?”

It makes Waverly’s heart warm. Wynonna Earp hates outsiders. She’s never trusted anyone who isn’t an Earp. And here she is, right now, officially inviting Nicole into theirs.

Nicole takes their catch and orders some sauces imported from Sector 4—Wynonna laughs at the name “cocktail” for thirty minutes straight—and cooks them a complete feast. It’s the most civil meal Waverly has shared with her family in months. 

-

Hours pass after Wynonna breaks a wild horse for Nicole. It’s been a while since Wynonna’s had this job, but she hasn’t lost her game. Her skills are still as top tier as the time before the Hunger Games, when breaking horses kept them fed. She manages to find the sweetest, gentlest horse Waverly has ever seen. She’s managed to somehow find the horse version of Nicole, and it blows Waverly’s mind. 

“What’re you going to name him?” Wynonna asks. “The name is important.”

“Yeah,” Waverly snickers, “like how Wynonna named hers ‘Bonzai’.”

“Why’d you choose ‘Lady’?” Nicole asks. Wynonna says it’s because the horse is dramatic.

“She won’t leave the stables without her shoes.” Waverly laughs. “She’s a proper  _ lady _ .”

Nicole can’t decide just yet. Not if it’s that important. So they head out, riding with no destination. Just riding. 

Hours. The sisters teach Nicole everything, and explore every part of the plains they possibly can. Sightseeing. Telling old stories. Racing. Only the three of them and their steeds exist at this point in time, and Waverly gets so lost in it, it’s like she’s reading a book. 

Neither Earp sister notices the storm that blows in. Not until Nicole’s shy horse hears the thunder and rears, throwing Nicole right off and running in the opposite direction.

Nicole doesn’t curse or groan in pain. She laughs, hard, and Wynonna thinks she’s hit her head or something.

“I’m going to name him Bucky!” Nicole exclaims from the grass. It’s so terrible, Waverly can’t control her own laughter. 

Wynonna isn’t faster than Nicole to get to the runaway horse. She actually lets Nicole take the lead in approaching “Bucky”. Waverly watches Wynonna; Wynonna is studying Nicole’s movements. The slow way she approaches, her one hand in clear view. The calming tone. The horse rears again, and Nicole takes two steps back. Her eyes don’t leave the horse, from the moment they arrive on the scene to the second Bucky calms down and invites Nicole’s touch. 

“Welp,” Wynonna says, nudging Waverly. “Guess I’m out of the job.”

The whole event cuts the day short. Thunder roars again, and Waverly catches Wynonna watching as Nicole successfully calms the horse. Wynonna smiles, before focusing on the path ahead. Wynonna  _ approves _ . 

Willa isn’t too happy to learn they missed the warnings, spent time in the storm, and one of them almost got trampled to death. “The house is full of people who need real treatment and you three are horsing around outside.”

They have to run away when Wynonna starts laughing at Willa’s unfortunate wording. 

It is true. The house is full of people. The house is still full of people, and it’s winter. This starvation isn't going to slow down. 

Waverly can’t focus on a thing. Every voice she hears, every stranger who walks around her property, makes her think of Clootie. He’s starting to win, in their little game, and there’s barely anything she can do about it. 

Which means the riots aren’t stopping. 

Waverly spends the entire day in town, until yet another Purgatory storm forces her and all her books back home. From the stables she hears the sound of hammer meeting nail, and finds Nicole in the barn, standing on a ladder and repairing one of the latest holes in the roof. Wynonna lays on the floor with the chickens, poking them as they walk by her. Waverly doesn’t say anything, but Wynonna is quick to defend herself. 

“I want to be seven feet tall before I start helping on the roof. Y’know, like Haught.” Wynonna thinks over her statement as Nicole laughs. “No. I want to be seven feet and two inches, so I’m taller than her. Ha!”

Waverly sits next to Wynonna, watching as Nicole maneuvers with tools and uses her head and the remainder of her right arm to hold the plank in place above. She’s lost in thought when Wynonna nudges her. 

“Sick of the crowd inside?” she asks. Waverly sinks against the wall.

“It’s only going to get worse. Winter hasn’t really started yet. The fields are going to close. And I can’t—”

“Not your job to fix it,” Wynonna reminds her. “You’re helping plenty, Waverly. You’ve fed a lot of people, and we’re getting them medicine and care.” Wynonna stands, making sure to pinch Waverly’s cheeks before she leaves. “Don’t blame yourself, you dummy.”

And here she sits, blaming herself. 

She looks up at Nicole, who catches her eye the way she always seems to and winks. It makes Waverly smile, and Nicole continues her duties, satisfied. 

“You can come up here, you know,” Nicole offers. She indicates the short, second level of the barn right next to her. “Climb on up.”

It makes Waverly laugh, to Nicole’s obvious confusion. “Okay, don’t make fun of me, but—”

“Oh, I’m not making any promises.”

“I’m afraid of ladders?”

Nicole bursts into laughter.

“I said don’t make fun of me! They’re harder than trees, okay? There’s no accessibility to them. The steps are too close together—”

“You know I’m disabled, right?” Nicole gestures to herself, at the top of the ladder. Most of her day, at the top of a ladder.

Waverly frowns. “Oh, shut up.”

Nicole descends, meeting Waverly on the barn floor on even ground. “I will literally never let this die down. I hope you know that.”

“You’re terrible.” Waverly catches Nicole’s eye as she stares down the chickens. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of chickens. I will happily make fun of you for that.”

“Not all chickens,” Nicole defends. She points to a specific one with her hammer, the creature staring back at her hatefully. “ _ That _ chicken!”

“Lacey? She wouldn’t hurt—”

“She zooms around here, while I’m carrying tools! She trips me! She’s evil!”

The chicken stares at her from the corner, and Waverly swears the animal looks angrier by the second. “You better be careful, before she zooms over here.”

Nicole starts to grin. “I’ll climb the ladder and leave you as bait.”

Waverly laughs. Nicole is satisfied, and climbs back up to finish her day’s work. She has little trouble getting up, carefully placing her leg between the steps. She does this, almost every day. It brings Waverly to ask, “How is your therapy going?”

“Fine,” Nicole says. “It’s mostly doing exercises to the sound of Willa ranting about how many patients she sees in a day. But,” Nicole looks down and grins, “I can throw more hay bales than Wynonna. So I win.”

“One of these days I’ll go with and save you from a Willa rant.”

“Deal. Sometimes she complains you aren’t around. I told her you’re busy, but she didn’t really care.”

“Sounds about right for Willa,” Waverly sighs. 

“She caught you sneaking out with your books this morning.” Nicole stops hammering the plank and looks down on Waverly again. “I kind of thought we had our own book club thing going, Earp. Cold.”

It’s true, Waverly has certainly gotten Nicole hooked on Shakespeare. 

“I sneak into town,” Waverly admits after a minute. “Every morning. I read to the kids that used to hang around the farmer’s market and I buy them food.” 

She used to go to the woods, too, but winter has been blocking her from going. This morning alone was a battle.

“You really are an angel,” Nicole smiles. Apparently both Nicole and Wynonna think so, but all Waverly can do is shrug about it. 

After a moment, Waverly reignites the conversation. “It’s not quite winter yet. When the storm blows over, do you want to go back to the woods one more time?”

“I’d love to. Maybe Lacey can come and—”

“Leave the chicken alone!”

-

Waverly makes sure to bundle Nicole up before they leave. The weather is dropping. There’s a good chance this is the last time they’ll be able to visit the woods for a while. The farmer’s market is opening again, shop by shop. Waverly wants to bring them all something big before the end of hunting season. Not that she won’t buy food and mysteriously drop it off . . .

They sit amongst the trees for hours. Wynonna isn’t here, but her traps are aiding them regardless. Waverly finally spots a deer and sinks two arrows into it before the real hunt begins. It’s a perfect opportunity to test Nicole’s tracking skills, and for the most part Nicole finds her way through the mess of trees. 

Mockingjays are swarming the deer, and Waverly flinches when they fly away. Nicole catches her and makes an amused face.

“Don’t start,” Waverly warns. “Things that fly creep me out, okay?”

“Starting with mockingjays and ending with angels?” Nicole teases.

“At least I’m not threatened by a chicken.”

“Okay—”

“A chicken!”

“Listen! She’s evil.”

“Whatever you say. Now be a dear and help me with the dead deer?”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Nicole snickers. 

“You know, you really—”

Waverly stops so suddenly, it makes Nicole drop the deer. There’s noise here. Someone is speaking, and it isn’t them. 

Waverly takes Nicole and hides. 

The white of the Peacekeeper uniform is impossible to mistake. It shuts down any doubts Nicole feels and leaves them both to sit here in silence, contemplating what they should do next. How many of them there are. Why they’re even here. 

There are only two. The York brothers. Their heads are on swivels, and it brings Waverly’s guard down. They both look terrified, arguing about which direction is right and which is wrong. Waverly thinks to exit her cover and approach them, lead them back to town, but she puts this feeling at the back of her mind. 

“Kyle, I’m starving. Let’s just go back to town! Come on!” Pete whines. His brother turns around and silences him. 

“We are never going back to Purgatory. We’re going east! They’ll never find us!” Kyle steps closer to Pete, getting in his face. “We’re going to the tunnels. East.”

“Sector 6 is dead, man. Let’s just go home.”

Kyle slaps him across the head. “We are never dealing with Clayborn ever again, do you hear me?”

Sector 6. Tunnels.

Waverly decides to leave the deer for them and turns the hunt around. Back to the homestead. She doesn’t want to get tangled up in whatever the brothers are trying to do. Whatever Clayborn will do when he finds out Peacekeepers are deserting. 

When Waverly and Nicole reach the fence again, Waverly’s bow tucked away in a tree log this time, Waverly has to yank Nicole’s hand back. 

The fence is electrified. 

The fence is never electrified. 

“Ready to learn how to climb a tree, ladder girl?” Waverly asks. 

It takes time and effort—lots of effort—but eventually Waverly gets the both of them to the top of a tree, high enough to hop over the fence. Nicole aims for the pile of snow below and jumps first, safely landing and motioning Waverly down. 

The branch snaps as Waverly jumps and she misses, landing poorly on her ankle. She  _ swears _ something snaps on the ground. Not another branch. Nicole has to help her on the horse, frantically, both of their nerves growing by the second and forcing them away from the woods and back to the homestead in a flash. 

Clootie has compromised the woods, and Waverly tries not to ride into town and shoot Clayborn right down.

The homestead isn’t any better. Waverly and Nicole open the door, rushing in without thinking, to find two Peacekeepers talking with the older Earp sisters. Clayborn is with them. It’s obvious why they’re here. Clootie has ordered a lockdown on the woods. The fence is electrified. He’s looking for an excuse to scare them again.

The riots aren’t slowing down.

“I guess they really were ‘just around the corner’,” Clayborn repeats. Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Where were you two?”

“Trying to have a nice ride together,” Nicole says. Waverly doesn’t try to help. This is Nicole’s department, talking people down. Charming them. “I got a new horse, do you want to see him?”

Nicole smiles at him, proud of Bucky, but Clayborn isn’t amused. He indicates Waverly’s ankle. “Ain’t you supposed to have years of riding experience?”

“Unfortunately we don’t have a snake radar on these modern day horses,” Nicole defends. “Ever been thrown off a horse?”

He clears his throat, settling his hand on his belt. “I can’t say I have, no. Must be painful.”

“Like a bitch,” Nicole agrees. 

Wynonna intervenes, stepping forward from where Clayborn forced them into a literal corner. “You said you had a message? There’s sick people here, man, we gotta get moving. Not the time to hang out.”

“Right.” Clayborn clears his throat again, before throwing on a fake smile. He looks at Wynonna, then to Waverly. “I just wanted to notify this household specifically, the fence by the woods is to be electrified every hour of the day. Just wanted to give you a little head’s up; make sure I have your  _ back _ .”

Clayborn throws one more grin at Wynonna, tipping his hat to her before wishing them a good day and leaving forever. 

Wynonna sighs. “God, I bet that guy has the smallest dick in Panem.”

-

Broken ankle. Violent storm. Waverly has no choice but to stay in bed all day, bored out of her mind. Luckily Nicole is just as bored, laying next to her all day and playing with the cat or napping. Waverly is used to clinging to Nicole all night, and lately the cat has been getting between them. She isn’t sure how to feel about it. 

Waverly spends some of her time reworking the family herbs book, drawing more accurate depictions of the plants described. Willa is too busy to snatch it away. When Nicole isn’t being stolen away by Wynonna to play poker, she and Calamity Jane lay next to Waverly, watching as she sketches out perfect imitations. All from memory. Not like she can skip over to the woods anymore and confirm. Clootie made sure of that. 

What else will he taunt them with?

She has to put the book down to get Clootie out of her head. He’s like a virus, spreading all throughout her brain. The cat doesn’t like the motion, scurrying away when Waverly puts the book down. Calamity Jane steps on Nicole’s chest and smacks her in the face with her tail before disappearing. 

“Bitch,” Nicole grumbles. Then she looks up to find Waverly and erupts into a smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You know me,” Waverly jokes, “always running around these days.” 

No one can so much as open the window without snow drowning them. This is the real winter season, now. It’s a fight to the death just for Wynonna to run outside and check on the animals. 

Waverly moves a long strand of hair from Nicole’s face, letting her hand linger here. Nicole’s always had such soft skin. 

“You haven’t been warm in a while,” Waverly says. 

“That’s because it’s fucking cold,” Nicole laughs. 

“Okay, smart ass.” Waverly tugs on Nicole’s ear before pulling her hand back. “How have you been?”

“Being bored is scary. I think Wynonna knows that. She watches me when I’m in the kitchen. Makes me play poker, even though I suck at it. But being here with you is helping. I love watching you draw.”

The thought of drawing puts a random thought into Waverly’s mind. “Do you want another tattoo?”

“Sure.” Nicole closes her eyes again, settling under the blankets. “Just don’t put any chickens on me.”

The tools arrive swiftly despite the weather. Angel symbols. Is it some kind of delivering company? Is this what Waverly is inspiring? 

She spends all day trying to decide what to put on Nicole’s arm. Nicole doesn’t really care what Waverly puts, because she trusts Waverly. 

Waverly thinks about the things that remind her of Nicole. Tridents. Boats. The barn. The fences, the greenhouse, horses. Flowers. Meadows. Rachel. 

The games. 

Everything they've been through, and every battle they’re going to have to continuously fight with Clootie, possibly until the end of time. How badly she wants to stay here, in this house, alone, with no impending doom staring them down the barrel. 

Suddenly Waverly looks down, to see the abomination she has drawn, forever, into Nicole’s skin. She stares at it, anxiously, impatiently, until Nicole wakes up. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m going to find a way to remove it, don’t worry—”

“Hey, easy.” Nicole starts to laugh. “I’m sure it’s not bad.”

Nicole inspects her forearm, silently. For a very, very long time. The red roses Waverly has put onto her skin forever stare back at her, stretching from the elbow to the wrist. It’s a whole bundle of the flower, about five or six. There’s no hiding them. Waverly has loudly and clearly tattooed Clootie’s signature flower onto Nicole’s skin. 

Nicole has the audacity to tell her she loves it. “Roses are romantic, Waverly. Don’t let  _ him _ ruin it. I love it. It’s beautiful.”

-

The next time the storm clears, Waverly takes Nicole and rides for Dolls’s house. She’s dying for some peace and quiet, and Nicole’s dying to get out of the house. Everyone wins. 

“Quiet” quickly turns into conspiracy, because the moment Waverly sees Dolls she unloads everything on her mind about Clootie. The York brothers and their tunnel to Sector 6. 

“So what?” Dolls asks when she’s done. “You want me to prove it? I can’t. Sector 6 has been dead for almost a century, Waverly. It’s a rumor. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sadly, Nicole has to agree with him. 

Everyone forgets Waverly’s Wynonna-like conspiracy rant and lounges around Dolls’s cabin. Dolls tells Nicole more about Purgatory winter, and she asks him if he has any boring yard work she can attend to for him. 

“Yeah, the winters here are boring.” Dolls pours more tea into Waverly’s unfinished glass and motions her to actually drink it. “I keep a gym in one of the rooms here. Feel free to use it.”

From this point, Nicole is the one disappearing. Going to Dolls’s house nearly every day to use his workout gear. Sometimes Waverly enters and finds them sparring, pushing Nicole even further past the limits of her leg. 

One day, Waverly even bothers to join them. Nicole proves herself to be the perfect wrestler, pinning Waverly to ground several times. Winking every time she leaves Waverly defenseless. 

They return the same day, to a homestead full of people. Not from town. Union officials. The photoshoot’s official time has come, and they spend hours dressing the two in different outfits. Waverly gets dizzy with the amount she tries on, and the speed in which her prep team talks nonsense to one another. Doc is here, but he spends most of his time chasing Kate’s tail. On the bright side, Nicole’s prep team looks equally annoying. 

Someone mentions huge delays in getting seafood. They were going to throw a party, but had none. It took weeks. Waverly looks at Nicole. Nicole looks back.

Sector 4 is revolting.

Sector 3. Sector 4. 5 is on the brink, if not for Clayborn and the lack of food. Waverly is ready to ask about jewelry. To see if Sector 1 is jumping on this train, too. That’s when Fish interrupts and announces they’re going to begin the final part of the shoot.

-

Willa Earp actually high fives Nicole Haught at dinner. “She’s getting better,” Willa reports, and Nicole smiles wide. 

I ran on Dolls’s treadmill for 45 minutes straight.” Nicole pats her leg. “Nothin’.”

“Stop bonding with my Haught,” Wynonna says, grabbing the mashed potatoes in the middle of the table. “I saw her first.”

Willa rolls her eyes, playfully. It’s probably the first time Waverly’s ever seen Willa roll her eyes from something not related to annoyance, and she doesn’t really know what to do with herself.

Dinner goes on like this. Everyone talking, laughing, smiling. Waverly doesn’t know what to do with herself. It’s too good to be true. 

The Union symbol flashes onto the TV, which brings itself to life with a mandatory program. As if Clootie was waiting for her to have fun before he could swoop in and ruin it.

Atlas Philomelos is happy to be on the air, as always. He shows off the photoshoot Waverly and Nicole did days ago, and announces the people will vote on which outfits Nicole and Waverly will officially wear for the wedding. The wedding will be broadcast to every home across the country.

“What if some of us are camera shy?” Nicole jokes.

They try to ignore it. Tune out Atlas’s nonsense and how the plan of invading Nicole and Waverly’s privacy is supposed to be celebrated. 

Clootie’s voice rings out, forcing Waverly’s eyes to snap right over to the television. 

He stands on a podium, a small box of sealed letters standing separately from him. He addresses the country, reminding everyone yet again about the Dark Days. Sector 6 being destroyed for leading the rebels against Union power. How the Hunger Games are supposed to keep everyone in order, keep everyone in unity, straying away from such a thing as individuality and separation. 

_ Standing up for yourself is evil,  _ Waverly scoffs in her mind. 

This year will be the 100th Games, and the fourth Quarter Quell. A special edition of the games. In the 25th games, they randomly chose underage children to compete. The 50th games had advanced weapons, such as machine guns and heat-seeking missiles. The 75th—Dolls’s year—had double the amount of tributes. 

“And now,” Clootie says from under his giant hat, “we will reveal the theme of the 100th Hunger Games. 100 years since the defeat of those who would dare defy the Union. Dare poison the minds of thousands, that we need to live separate and not together.”

President Clootie draws from the box, retrieving the letter marked  _ 100\.  _ He breaks the official seal and reads this year’s grand theme to the public for the first time.

“In this fourth Quarter Quell, the 100th Hunger Games, the tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors.”

A glass shatters against the wood floor.

Waverly’s chest begins to burn as her anxiety is shot into her. As she realizes, easily, she is the only living female tribute in Sector 5.

Waverly Earp is going to be in the Hunger Games again.

Wynonna begins to scream and curse. Willa actually starts to cry. Nicole’s hand begins to shake uncontrollably. Waverly spots the roses across her forearm and ejects from her seat. 

Somehow, she isn’t sure how, Waverly ends up on her horse. Riding. She doesn’t know where. She just tells Lady to go, and the horse follows her command; she goes. 

Waverly ends up in the middle of a field, far, far away from any building, and screams into the ground. Her hands shake so hard, she can barely support herself. 

When she comes back to reality, she sees the moon has moved across the plains. It’s been hours. Her horse waits patiently for her, from a distance. Waverly’s throat feels so dry, it actually hurts. 

She can’t do this again. She cannot do these games all over again.

She thinks of Dolls and gets back on the horse. 

Xavier Dolls is actually drinking alcohol, staring at a blank wall in his home. He doesn’t say anything when Waverly enters. He just drinks.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Her voice is hoarse, weak. Hell, she could use a drink. She won’t waste this one.

They don’t speak. Not until after the bottle is half done.

“Dolls, what are we going to do?”

Dolls doesn’t answer. He’s her mentor. He’s supposed to have all the answers, and he doesn’t respond.

That’s the thing. He isn't her mentor anymore. He’s her fellow tribute, now.

“Get yourself home, to your—”

“If she gets picked,” Waverly says, standing right in front of Dolls, “you are going to help me. Promise me, Xavier. If Nicole Haught gets picked, we are saving her this time.”

There’s no response, and it makes Waverly shake even harder.

“Promise me, Xavier!”

It’s hesitant, but there’s a nod. It’s confirmation from her fellow tribute that Nicole Haught will be the victor of the 100th Hunger Games, if she’s chosen. 

And something tells Waverly Nicole will be chosen.

-

Wynonna is waiting on the porch when Waverly returns, early the next morning. Her head is killing her. Her stomach wants to kill her. Waverly has no idea how Nicole drank every night for so long.

“I got some news, Wave,” Wynonna says. “Well,  _ badder _ news, I guess? Um, Nicole is gone. Peacekeepers came about an hour after you left. All her stuff. Gone. Back to Sector 4. They claimed—”

Waverly doesn’t hear the last part. She passes out, right there on the porch.

Unfortunately, she wakes and finds none of this is a dream. The cat is still here. Calamity Jane sleeps in Nicole’s spot. Nicole’s empty spot on the bed. Waverly turns her head, dizzying herself, to find a half empty closet. Nicole is gone. 

The Quarter Quell is real.

Waverly is going to be strong this year. Clootie isn’t going to win. She’s going to enter that arena, stronger than ever before, and she’s going to—

The second Waverly sees Wynonna enter the room, she bursts into tears. 

“I know, baby girl.”

Wynonna lays with her and the cat for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the chicken was for a specific person. She knows who she is >:D
> 
> This is a special chapter. It just feels like everyone gets to escape to a different place. Y’know, before the madness explodes back in their face again.
> 
> The news we got today was a total blow to the stomach. There's things I love about this show, and there's things I hate. But it will always have a special place in my heart, and it will always mean the world to me. I hope this chapter serves as a love letter to how I feel. I still have a couple of other works in progress, so I'll still be around even long after Wynonna is officially over. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this monster of a chapter. Next time, we’ll follow Waverly and Dolls as they prepare for the Quarter Quell. Shoutout to the homie who keeps stealing my parking space every morning and makes me park around the corner <3


	17. Chapter 17

Waverly is happy to invest more money into expensive things. Dolls is happy to put the large home he’s never used to work. They transform the entire first floor into the perfect training gym. More weight sets. Punching bags. Throwing ranges. Anything and everything that will give them a fighting chance against the other exhausted victors who will be gunning just as hard as them. 

Dolls lays down the strategy the second the real training starts. “We’re going to act like Careers. Diet, skill, attitude—full Career. The second we hit the training gym, I want you to grab a bow and start shooting. I want you to show them who you are.”

Last year’s games crosses Waverly’s mind. The Careers, gathered all together like friends, showing off their skills. Champ Hardy, sparring with the trainer over and over. Nicole, throwing heavy weights and getting on everyone’s good side.

Nicole.

“Do you think Nicole’s going to volunteer if she isn’t picked?” It’s days before Waverly asks the question, because she doesn’t want to discuss the possibility.

The best part about Dolls is his honesty. If there’s something on his mind, he’ll tell Waverly. Better yet, he won’t even bother with censoring it. “As long as you’re in the games, she’s going to volunteer. But,” he adds to counterattack the frown on her face, “if Nicole is picked, someone else can jump in for her. Sector 4 has had some eager tributes. I wouldn’t doubt it.”

It’s good enough to keep Waverly going, to motivate her to come home. Back to Wynonna, and back to Nicole. Dolls tells her upfront he doesn’t plan on winning. He wants Waverly to win—Nicole, if she’s picked—and she can shout and fight and plea about it all she wants. He’s not changing his mind. It’s all he asks of her. It’s all Dolls has ever asked of her, and she can’t help but agree, no matter how hard it is. He’s asking her one last chance to be her mentor, her partner in this, and she can’t deny him. Dolls has had a long, difficult life. He gets to choose what happens to him, in the end. Not the Union.

They spend all day in the house. Dolls jokes it’s the most attention the place has ever gotten in the history of its existence, and of course it’s games related. 

Breakfast. Weight lifting in the morning. Lunch. Endurance exercises. Dinner. Watching old games with footage Dolls managed to get out of Doc with a simple phone call. The week always ends with a sparring session. The week always begins with the promise to learn something new. Waverly gets better at throwing knives. Even better at hand-to-hand combat. She teaches Dolls to shoot a bow, just in case.

The sisters aren’t out of the picture, including Willa. Willa designs a complete nutrition program for them, and ails their sore muscles. Wynonna spends hours in the woods gathering whatever it is she needs. She even steps in to do some sparring with Waverly. Sometimes Dolls asks Wynonna to be a distraction on purpose to test Waverly’s focus; her ability to work under stress. Waverly thinks Wynonna has too much fun screaming in her ear while she shoots.

Every night, Waverly is in front of the new television with a new journal she started on training day one. Years and years of Hunger Games are jotted down inside. Dozens of tributes she was never allowed to meet—old tributes meeting with the faces of the new uprisings would only make things worse. 

Pro: she won’t be killing any friends. Con: the alliances she and Dolls will face will be intense and more in sync than ever before. 

Doc sends them projections of tributes who will be favored, and others who are most likely to win. Waverly and Nicole stand high on the favorites list, but not on the victors list. That list will always belong to the Careers, and every face on that list, every time, belongs to Sector 2.

Months pass. Waverly barely notices the snow melting outside until her weight training morphs into farm work. Wynonna’s certainly happy about doing less work. Before she knows it, they’re sitting together, on the final night before the new reaping, sharing drinks and one last dinner together. Wynonna goes into town and cooks food she knows Dolls loves the most. On the morning of the reaping, Waverly sees Wynonna and Dolls on the porch outside. They talk for hours, and it ends with the longest hug Waverly’s ever seen in her life. 

Next thing she knows, she’s being pulled outside by her sister. Wynonna gathers the horses, and they go on what might be one last ride around the property. It’s silent, but for the effort of the horses. Waverly barely watches where she’s going. Her eyes fall on her sister. Wynonna’s hair, flowing in the wind. Her eyes are straight ahead, focusing on nothing but where she’s going. She’s nothing like Waverly, who normally spends all her time looking everywhere but straight ahead. They circle back to the porch, and Waverly wishes there was time for them to go to the woods once more.

“Are you ready?” Wynonna asks her. They sit together on their porch swing, wrapped in blankets despite the fact today’s weather is absolutely perfect. Waverly settles closer to her sister, to take some of her warmth for the long journey ahead.

“No, I’m not.”

“At least the reaping is different this year, right? No bats.”

“No, they’re just going to stand us on stage and make a big show of it. Why even reap me and Dolls? Everyone knows—”

“To make a big show of it.” Waverly sighs in frustration, and Wynonna pulls her closer. “This is just Clootie getting back at you because you can’t solve the problem of him being a terrible president. He’s messing with you. So mess with him back. Embarrass him on stage or prank him. Like, blow up his house or something, I don’t know.”

Waverly laughs. “Yeah, let me just blow up his house real quick.”

“Get the groceries while you’re out, too.”

They sit there for a moment, laughing. When silence approaches them, they invite it to the swing with them. Waverly doesn’t want to leave. Wynonna says she can do this, but she feels hopeless. She and Nicole tricked the Union last time. That, and pure luck got them through everything. This year is different. These tributes are victors, who already have expectations and strategies walking in. They know each other. They’ve watched each other’s games, gotten to know one another. The only person Waverly knows is Nicole.

“You’re smarter than them, you know.” Waverly swears Wynonna is reading her mind. “You’re smaller, and you’re faster. You’ll have Haught’s sponsors this year, and all of Haught’s annoying charm. Use it. You’ll have Dolls and his big beefy biceps, too.”

Waverly grins at her. “I’m surprised you didn’t kiss him goodbye.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t jump his bones.” Wynonna starts laughing hysterically. “Just fuck Haught right on stage, that’ll get you sponsors real quick!”

“Wynonna!”

“Give the people what they want, Waverly!” She continues laughing, as Waverly shakes her head disapprovingly. Then she runs a hand through Waverly’s hair, thoroughly messing it up before standing up to go back inside. “You’re gonna be just fine, baby girl. Now come on, go to bed. Wouldn’t want to start an eye bags trend in the Union, would we?” Wynonna laughs again. “That would be fucking hilarious.”

It’s the same thing as the first games. Wynonna walking her to bed. Tucking her in like she’s a kid again and kissing her goodnight. She hangs out at the door, lingering in case Waverly needs anything. 

Waverly does. She tells Wynonna to stay with her for the night. She knows she won’t be able to sleep. The looming threat of entering the games once again is making her mind run at right thousand miles a minute.

-

They gather the entire town into the square. Before the Justice Building, where Wynonna was whipped by Head Peacekeeper Clayborn. Waverly sees her sisters sign in with Union officials before they are escorted to the front of the crowd. Waverly stands on the stage with Dolls, the mayor, and Doc. Today Doc wears navy blue, and she’s thankful to see a darker, non-ridiculous color aside from the bright gold shimmering on the edges of his coat and his entire hat. She’s grateful, because today she’s far too frustrated to be annoyed by Union fashion. 

She surveys the crowd and sees the Peacekeepers surrounding the area, training their guns on her neighbors. People she’s known all her life. Gone to school with. Waverly’s never seen the Sector 5 Peacekeepers like this, and it makes her nervous to leave her sisters behind.

There are two sections in the front. One for her sisters, and one she assumes has been set aside for making Dolls look like a loser; he has no family. 

Waverly zones completely out as the mayor gives the usual speech for this awful event. She doesn’t wake up until Doc steps forward. He mumbles something about this being ridiculous, cruel, unnecessary. He doesn’t even try to make himself presentable to the crowd. He’s a Union man, and he doesn’t want to play the Union’s games. It shows everything needed to understand these games.

Doc approaches two large glass bowls. In the other Sectors, those bowls are probably filled with the paper strips, but here in 5, there’s one name each. Doc looks to Waverly as he draws the female tribute first.

“Sector 5, your sole female tribute for the 100th Hunger Games is Ms. Waverly Earp.” 

He says it blandly, as if in protest. Doc motions her forward, as if to step away from other victors who could’ve been chosen, and Waverly decides to take a page out of Nicole’s book. If she and Dolls are going to fight like Careers, they’ll need to start acting like them, too. 

Waverly stands tall, keeping a neutral face. She doesn’t look into the crowd, not even at her sisters. She’s presenting herself as strong. She’s not the scared girl from last year. She’s a warrior of Sector 5, as they call it in the headlines. A hero of the people, as they drill into the minds of Panem’s youth. She’s going to win these games, and it starts right here, on this stage. Charm. Last year Nicole said everything was charm. This year she’s not going to be the tribute who stands on the stage, giggling and twirling like a child.

Dolls takes her lead. Standing with his chest puffed out. They stand together, as the Union preaches, and they ignore the people below they’re supposed to be pleasing. The crowd raises their hands, saluting with three fingers, and Peacekeepers immediately pull them off the stage and for the trains. It’s Waverly’s first true test in hiding her emotions, and she finds herself biting her tongue until it bleeds.

She doesn’t trust those Peacekeepers at all.

Before the doors of the Justice Building close, Waverly does look back. She finds Wynonna, who smiles and nods at her.

-

No cameras at the train station. Waverly doesn’t really care. They’re rushing her and Dolls out of here, like they’re afraid they’ll try to run. Plenty of time has passed already to do so—they’re committed, now.

Thankfully, dinner isn’t as awkward as it was last year. No Alex to ignore, either. Waverly and Dolls joke about only things they would know, only things they’ve done together, and she sees Doc laughing along at their friendship in the corner. He respectfully waits until it quiets down to present the project he was working on while they were prepping to fight to the death a second time.

Doc indicates the shimmering golden hat on his head, so cartoony and odd Waverly wonders if he owns a chocolate factory. He wasn’t kidding at the party all those months ago. He really made a goal to get every member of this team something made out of gold, like Waverly’s pin from Wynonna, and he hands Dolls a bracelet made of pure gold. Waverly thinks it’s silly. When she makes her alliances in the Training Center, is Doc going to show up in the gym and present them with rings and necklaces?

They shuffle over to the TV on the train to watch the recap of the reapings across the Sectors. It’s nerve-wracking, but she has to know what she’ll be up against. 

Sector 1 offers them four tributes with the weirdest names Waverly’s ever heard. Kiss ass names, after things they make for the Union. They make the shiny things for the Union, and the Union makes sure they have plenty of food to keep it coming. Waverly records it all in her journal. Even the girl who actually _thanks_ Clootie for giving her the opportunity to do this all again. She’s either trying way too hard, or she’s completely delusional. 

So many people volunteer at the same time in Sector 2, they have to revoke the volunteer rule. The woman picked from the military region, according to Dolls, is Head Peacekeeper Holt Clayborn’s sister, Cleo Clanton. She does the same thing Waverly does, keeping her emotions to herself. Until the reaping is over. Then she looks directly into one of the cameras and smiles. Waverly notes she has confidence, which means she has something to back it up.

The other Sector 2 woman from the weapons division is odd. No one can seem to place which games she won, or who she even is, like she was thrown in here by mistake. Waverly puts a question mark next to the name Jolene Del Rey. Possible relation to the Head Gamemaker? Or is it just a coincidence? Is that even allowed? The way she smiles is evil, and it makes Waverly uncomfortable. 

Dolls curses when Sector 3 pulls a male named Jeremy Chetri. “He’s a really good guy,” Dolls says. 

Jeremy is probably the closest in age to Waverly they’ll see in these games, aside from Jolene. She recalls he won by hiding from the competition until there were few left, then he created an electric fence and lured them all to their deaths.

They get to Sector 4, and Waverly begins to feel anxious. The lumberjack region brings them Rosita Bustillos, a woman who looks like she can outsmart the smartest computer in the world, and Robin Jett, a man Dolls refers to as a “tree hugger”. A literal tree hugger, he says. Apparently Robin is surrounded by nothing but plants on his property. Dolls also says everyone thinks he’s weird. Probably because he never talks to any real people.

Sector 4 hydroelectric dam and fishing. Waverly sees Nicole on the screen, standing among other victors, and her heart stops. It completely falls out when they call someone else. Chrissy Nedley. The daughter of Nicole’s mentor. Nicole pushes in front of the girl and volunteers as tribute. Chrissy holds her arm, tries to stop her, sobbing she’ll go into the games one more time, but Nicole won’t have it. She actually threatens Chrissy to let go, and Chrissy knows there will be no stopping Nicole. She lets go, and Nicole accepts her place as her region’s female tribute. The region’s male tribute will be none other than Randy Nedley.

Waverly and Nicole, last year’s winners, partnered with their mentors.

It’s almost too ironic to be by chance.

-

It’s always annoying to see the prep team, but worth it if it means she’ll be seeing Fish again. They trip over themselves, actually, legitimately crying, because Waverly and Nicole will have to fight each other to the death. They say they’ve become quite fond of Waverly, and it causes her to think. The people of the Union love these victors. The victors are celebrities at this point. Are they really going to cheer on this all-star match of the celebrities they’ve become so fond of? Or is this going to make things in the Sectors far worse?

What happens when Panem’s star crossed lovers are the only two tributes left standing? Will they cheer their fight, or will they protest?

Fish enters, and she decides to table the mental debate for now. 

“You are a certified genius, Waverly Earp,” he says, and Waverly shrugs.

“It’s nothing. Just a gift.” She smiles at him, and he grabs her hand affectionately before moving on to tell her this year’s plan.

“I loved what you and Dolls did at the reaping. The silent protesting. The solid wall of strength. I want to use it. Gah, it was so good!”

“What’s my costume this year?” Waverly can’t help but feed off his energy. Something’s about to happen, she feels it, and she’s just as excited. 

“We’re doing heavy makeup this year. When you’re on the chariot, keep staring straight ahead. Don’t even acknowledge the audience. As for the costume . . .” He walks over to a mannequin and turns on the lights dangling over it. “The angel costume is black this year. Personally I think it’s more like a raven, but no one has to know that.”

Waverly loves it. They’re trying to be strong this year. Tough. Intimidating. Like Careers. “It’s perfect, Fish.”

“My husband, Levi, said we need to keep the flames, too. So that’s my little selfish touch, I guess.”

Waverly shakes her head. “No, it’s perfect. It’s all perfect. Thank you, Fish.”

He laughs. “Anything to get Xavier Dolls in makeup.”

-

The setting at the chariots is much different from last year. There are no awkward tributes, sitting by their horses until it’s time to start. No one trying to make small talk. There’s no Champ to bully the Sector 3 tributes. Everyone knows one another, and it’s such a social scene Waverly forgets for a second they’re about the start the Hunger Games and not at a party with weird costumes. 

She also notes how odd it is to see older folks wearing little kid costumes. They’ve dressed up Rosita Bustillos, who by Waverly’s understanding is a gifted self-taught biochemist, in a tree costume, and she looks like she’s ready to slaughter anyone who looks at her. So Waverly looks away for the sake of her safety. It’s better than Jeremy Chetri, whom Dolls talks with. He’s dressed in nothing but a black suit that has a heavy looking fabric, and a bunch of twinkle lights from head to toe. 

Waverly is the only awkward one this year, all the way until Nicole makes an appearance. She wants to be happy to see Nicole, but she can’t be. Nicole is here, which means Nicole is a competitor. Which means only one of them is leaving here alive. There is no way Clootie is going to let last year happen, ever again. 

It’s going to destroy everything they worked on with the tour, and Waverly wonders what the point of this even is. He’s trying to stop the rioting by using them as a distraction, and now they’re going to fight one another to the death? It makes no sense. Charlie said the games are planned years and years in advance, but Waverly knows it isn’t a coincidence. This Quarter Quell theme was intentional, and she can’t stop asking why.

Until she notices what Nicole is wearing. Suddenly she can’t think. 

Waverly’s eyes fall on the sugar cube Nicole has stolen yet again from a poor horse, popping it into her mouth and laughing while she makes direct eye contact with Waverly. Waverly gets a real look at her costume and suddenly forgets how to breathe.

“Sugar cube?” Nicole offers. “Don’t worry, I _asked_ the horse this year. He said it was okay. Either that, or he said go to hell. My Horse is rusty. I—” Nicole stops. “Are you okay? Nervous?”

Then Nicole notices Waverly’s face is completely red and begins to laugh. So hard, Waverly goes redder.

This year, they’ve stuck with more of the knot-tying strength Nicole carries than anything else. There’s a pair of skintight pants, similar to diving gear, but there’s no top. The entire “top” Nicole is wearing is just an intricate series of rope. There’s little to the imagination, and yet Waverly’s mind goes all over the place. 

“I was just—I—I can’t focus, honestly.” Waverly exhales, and she feels her arms gesturing wildly all over the place as she attempts miserably to collect or explain herself. “I mean—your boobs—”

Nicole is smiling wide, and it should be making Waverly mad at how overly confident she is. At how much she’s enjoying watching Waverly squirm. But she can’t. Because of the boobs. 

“They do have that effect,” Nicole smirks. That horribly annoying smirk Waverly’s missed all this time they’ve spent apart. 

“I mean, your boobs are—” Waverly remembers Wynonna saying the best strategy is to just go at it on stage, and her face goes redder. Nicole laughs, and Waverly buries her face in her own hands to hide.

“You are so easy, Waverly Earp.” She circles Waverly, leaning close to whisper, “I think you look lovely, too, by the way.”

It’s a full minute or five before Waverly returns to this plane, keeping her eyes focused on Nicole’s and absolutely nowhere lower. “Thank you.” She clears her throat. “I think you look lovely, too.”

“Would you like a sugar cube?”

“What’s your vendetta against these horses?” Regardless of her disapproval, Waverly takes it, anyway. “What would Bucky say?”

“That he’s friggin’ sick of carrots and he wants some sugar, too.”

“Thank god they are making Nedley wear a shirt under his.” Dolls enters the scene, laughing. Then Nicole starts laughing, because Dolls is wearing eyeliner. 

“It is a good thing,” Nicole agrees. “Waverly might go admire his boobs, too.”

Waverly groans. She’ll never, ever hear the end of this.

With perfect timing, they start calling the tributes to get on their chariots to start the ceremonies. Dolls stops Nicole before she can go. “Nedley’s going to give you instructions. It’s what we’re doing. We’re all a team and I’d like us to do the same things.”

Nicole is agreeable. She puts a thumbs up, pops another sugar cube into her mouth, and walks off. 

Ignoring her dozens of adoring and annoying fans is something Waverly finds easy, almost as easy as writing her name. She’ll never know them, and they’ll never know her. They’re not friends. The only fan she’ll ever care for is Wynonna, and Wynonna would never, ever cheer for her in a fight to the death. Wynonna would try and get her out. If they really cared, they’d be silent. Not encouraging these awful games.

Other designers have stolen Fish’s big trick, and Waverly takes amusement in it. The only one that even remotely makes sense is Sector 1. The miners are wearing outfits that represent coal being lit on fire. It actually looks pretty cool, and she’s a little worried it’ll look cooler than the ones Fish is using this year. She’ll activate them when they’re closer to the end. Keep the people on the edge of their seats. 

Sector 4’s doesn’t make any sense. The lumberjacks are dressed fully like trees, and the fire makes it look like they’re burning down like the ones back in Sector 5. So either they’re supporting Sector 5, or they’re representing trees being destroyed. It doesn’t make any sense. At least the coal represents warmth and life. Burning trees represents nothing more than less oxygen in the world, and a whole lot of crud in the air no one can breathe. 

She and Dolls have captivated the crowd by the time the fake flames are activated, so it shouldn’t be a surprise when Clootie stares at her specifically from his balcony as he reads his speech. It’s ridiculous. She wanted out of these games, and he’s called her back. He can’t threaten her. She’s done everything he’s asked. It’s plain unfair. 

President Clootie announces the modifiers for the 100th Hunger Games, and she’s filled of hate for him all over again. The first modifier is children. At random intervals in the games, they are going to pluck ten random children from across the Sectors and throw them into the games. If one of the children wins, they’ll be treated as a proper victor. 

The people actually _cheer_ for this, and she hears someone yell how brilliant this idea is. _What a great twist!_ Some of the Careers are excited. They’re excited to kill children.

Then he announces the number of days for training. One. They’re allowed one day to come out of retirement and form alliances before the games begin. One day.

Nicole’s full of curses once they enter the Training Center and depart from their horses. Dolls goes by the elevators while Waverly collects Nicole to talk with an old friend. Waverly still can’t believe it. These games will be hard enough. She’s entering with two of the biggest supporters in her life, and now she’s expected to kill children. It repulses her so hard, she doesn’t see herself eating dinner tonight.

Waverly and her Sector 4 allies head to the elevator, where Dolls and his Sector 2 friend are laughing about the lumberjacks’ outfits. He introduces his friend, Ramon Quinn, and the first thing Quinn does is run his hands through Waverly’s hair, thoroughly making a point of messing it up the way Wynonna might, before walking off. He calls her a kid as he does so, and Dolls and Nedley laugh about it. Nicole just shrugs, like it wasn’t the weirdest thing she’s ever seen. 

It gets weirder. Rosita from Sector 4 jumps in the elevator at the last second and greets Nicole. Then, making direct eye contact with Waverly, she begins to strip out of her outfit. Dolls looks away, and Nedley snickers. Waverly actually sees Nicole _checking her out._

“It’s like that time last spring when we went skinny dipping,” Rosita says, and Nicole just nods. Rosita looks her over before dropping the rest of her costume to the ground. Waverly’s eyes stare at the ceiling. “Wow, imagine if my designer wasn’t a fucking moron. A walking fucking tree. That was his pitch. Moron. Think of the sponsors, dumbass.”

“Boobs do sell, after all.” Nicole has the audacity to nudge Waverly. Waverly feels her face grow hotter by the second. She considers breaking the glass on the elevator and plummeting to her death.

Rosita stares at Waverly until the elevator stops on the fourth floor, then she says something about stopping by again sometime for another “fun chat”. 

The second the door closes, everyone but Waverly erupts into laughter. The door opens again on the fifth, and Waverly angrily smacks Nicole’s arm as Dolls and Nedley walk somewhere else in the hall to talk strategy.

Nicole doesn’t understand why she’s mad, and it makes her even more mad. 

“Waverly, don’t you get it?” Nicole laughs again, and it raises Waverly’s frustration to another level. “They’re messing with you. Quinn and Rosita—they’re poking fun.”

“They’re making fun of me,” Waverly corrects. “Why me? What did I do?”

“You’re a pure little angel.” 

“Nicole, I swear to—”

“Last year in the games, you saw me naked and you freaked out.”

“Doesn’t anyone know what manners are? Have you stripped in a frickin’ elevator, too?”

“If I have, I don’t remember. Look, you had the lowest kill count. And you’re literally dressed like an angel. They think you’re sweet and innocent. Change their minds. Grab a bow tomorrow and show them what you’re made of.”

All fair points. Waverly did spend her time giggling and twirling on stage for her interview. Still, “It doesn’t help that you’re laughing at me, too.”

“But you’re so cute.” Waverly begins to walk away, and Nicole grabs her arm. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Come on, if someone started messing with my hair, you’d be laughing, too.”

Waverly takes her arm back from Nicole. “Only because you’re so particular about your hair.”

-

The first thing Waverly sees in the room, after Nedley and Nicole return to their floor below, is Doc and his gold hat. He’s still wearing dark colors, as if to match Dolls and Waverly. As if Fish gave him a head’s up. 

The second thing she notices are the two new Avoxes. Doc and Dolls chat for a bit, and Waverly’s eyes don’t leave them. They look familiar. Then she looks past the silly uniform and the stupid Union fashion and it hits her. 

It’s Pete and Kyle York. 

She runs to her room with the excuse of needing to get out of her costume, and she hides here until Dolls tells her they need to rewatch the Opening Ceremonies. It’s a whole mission, avoiding eye contact or any sort of contact with Peacekeepers she knew so well at home, who are now meant to be her servants.

The Opening Ceremonies aren’t even worth watching. It’s sad, actually, watching all these tributes back here again. It’s probably nothing like the Union intended, either. Nicole wasn’t the only drug addict, but she was the only one who stopped. Even Dolls’s friend looks out of his mind up there. If the tributes aren’t high out of their mind, the ghosts of the past take them. Some of them, frankly, look plain hideous. Years of addiction and whatever terrible diets they’ve adopted are clear as day, and no amount of makeup or senseless fire effects can hide it.

Not a surprise most of the Careers are excited to be here, rousing the crowd. The miners raise their costume pickaxes. Clayborn’s sister chants her own name and hypes up the crowd to do the same. Jolene Del Rey winks and waves at everyone. Not a soul knows who she is, but they cheer for her anyway. 

Maybe it’s because she’s the image they’re looking for. Waverly and Nicole are, too. Nothing like the Sector 3 automobile pair that don’t know where they are in the universe. They’re the pull of this Quarter Quell. The true image of what the victors were meant to be: strong and stable warriors, defenders of their homelands.

Only question is, defenders of what? Warriors of what? It’s all they told them, for years. The victors are warriors. Waverly never knew what they were supposed to be warriors of, and to this day she still can’t figure it out. 

Her eyes catch the small portions of the cheering faces who have tears in their eyes. Their beloved celebrities, going off to their deaths. At this rate, these victors will be warriors and faces of whatever rebellion is going to be born of this disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicole’s costume is based off of Finnick’s. Let’s be honest, most of Nicole in this AU is based off of Finnick. 
> 
> Next time, we’ll follow the gang as they navigate training.


	18. Chapter 18

There’s no point in wasting time if she can’t sleep. Waverly leaves her assigned quarters in the penthouse and moves to the couch in front of the biggest TV she’s ever seen. It takes up the entire wall, from top to bottom, and spans several feet horizontally. She turns the volume all the way down and puts in the footage of past games Doc smuggled in for them. 

When it finally loads, she sees it’s the last Quarter Quell. Dolls’s games. She wants to eject it, to protect his past trauma from being used as entertainment, but she has to know. Doc only managed a small amount with him. She has to see what there is to expect of a Quarter Quell. He’s in his room, anyway. He’ll never know. Just watch it quickly and throw it back in the satchel.

The arena is a gothic nightmare. Gray trees that practically emit a black aura. Dead grass, for miles and miles. It’s not what throws Waverly off, or those tributes. The 75th games had double the amount of tributes, and all their eyes were stuck on the same thing: the wildlife. The most gorgeous and colorful creatures she’d ever seen, prowling the grounds and erasing the horror. 

Dolls is the only tribute to look away and focus on the Cornucopia when the gong sounds. He gets a fair head start, before booking it into the trees. The Careers take care of a good number of this bigger batch of tributes, joyful as they slaughter. 

He was no different from Waverly. Kept to himself. Hid from the others. He even stirred conflict where he could to get the competition rolling. Dolls never returned to the Cornucopia, and when things slowed enough for a feast to be called, the gorgeous animals were released in flocks from the ground below the tributes who returned. They were attacked horrifically. Eight died all at once. 

Loneliness looked better on Dolls than it did on Waverly. He never went crazy, for one. But then Dolls has never really been one for emotions. He doesn’t interact with another person until Eliza Shapiro, another Sector 5, runs into him. She doesn’t try to fight him. He doesn’t try to lure her into one of his traps or tricks. They just sit together, in the night, and by morning Eliza decides to stay. Maybe she felt it, too, that energy about Dolls. It’s the same energy Wynonna has, and the same energy Nicole has. Strength. Bravery. Something you can trust, no matter what.

Dolls and Eliza are interrupted from nice conversation by two Careers that look like they’ve already gone insane days ago. Dolls wants to run, to leave Eliza, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He turns around and helps her kill them both, before they run off, far away from the scene of the crime, from the noise they’ve made, and stop somewhere safe. They stick together. 

Dolls notices something near the permanent camp they keep. He inspects the air, fascinated by what appears to be nothing. Eliza calls him crazy, but Waverly knows Dolls. He wouldn’t waste his time with something that didn’t matter. Waverly tries to study it, too, but whatever it is Dolls is laughing to himself about, she just can’t figure out. At night, he gathers pebbles and starts tossing them, laughing. It’s too dark at night for Waverly to see what exactly it is he’s doing. 

Three victors remain. Eliza watches Dolls for hours as he stares at whatever he’s staring at, mumbling things to himself. He’s gone crazy, Eliza probably thinks. The last person left is the strongest Career in the games. Dolls’s own Champ Hardy. Eliza can’t take her chances. If she’s in an alliance with someone who’s going to hold her back, she’s going to die. It’s what Waverly had to do at the Feast. Leave Nicole behind.

Eliza doesn’t simply leave Dolls. She swings a sword for the back of his head. But he’s Dolls. He’s smart and aware, the same way Waverly knows him today. He dives from the way and watches as Eliza’s weapon hits an invisible wall, causing it to explode, and causes her sword to fly into her own neck. 

Waverly doesn’t understand what happened. She rewinds it, over and over, but she can’t figure it out.

“Forcefields.”

Dolls’s voice nearly causes her to fall out of her seat. She scrambles to turn the TV off, but he tells her to leave it. It’s time for a lesson, so she sits and listens despite her guilt.

“I thought you were going to discover them last year, but you didn’t.” He shrugs. “It’s for the best.” Dolls stands next to the giant TV and pauses the footage just as Eliza’s sword ignites the explosion. “What do you see?”

Nothing, at first. Just this forcefield, exploding. After a full minute or so, Dolls begins to point his finger. It’s so obvious, Waverly feels stupid. Eliza broke a whole in the forcefield. The background behind it is different from the arena, and suddenly everything makes sense. The arena is a closed space barricaded by these forcefields. It’s what electrocuted Waverly last year, and it’s why all the trees were rustling so violently as it closed—they were moving the field. 

Dolls plays the rest of the games. No fast forwarding. He sits there and takes it as he rewatches Eliza’s death. Dolls held her in her arms, silencing her when she apologized. She asked him to speak, so he told her a story about home until she passed away and the cannon stopped him. It’s so similar to what Waverly did for Rachel, she doesn’t realize she’s crying too until Dolls places his hand on her shoulder. 

Dolls versus his version of Champ. They fight hand-to-hand after the Career tracks him to his own camp. The opposition is a Sector 4 lumberjack armed with an axe, swinging the heavy weapon at an impressively fast speed. Dolls gets slashed across his arm, but he doesn’t let it slow him down. The Sector 4 calls him all sorts of names, mostly dragging Sector 5 through the mud. Dolls doesn’t really care. He doesn’t return any smart remarks until he’s calculated the right moment. He’s feet away from his opponent after breaking from a hold, and he teases him.

“Come on,” Dolls said, “don’t tell me a weak Sector 5 like me is wearing you out?”

The Sector 4 boy fills with rage and throws his axe. Dolls dodges, and watches as the axe bounces off the forcefield and right back into the tribute’s head. The cannon sounds, and Dolls officially becomes the 75th victor in Hunger Games history.

It should be impressive, but it makes Waverly nervous. It makes her think. Dolls made them look stupid. Used their own arena against them. Figured out their trick. He’s honored a fallen tribute, and he’s made the Union look stupid.

“What did they do?” Waverly asks. “What was the spin on that?”

Dolls shakes his head, laughing. “An invisible bird got in the way and caused the axe to bounce back. Not like Union citizens understand physics, anyway. Our friend Clootie wasn’t happy. He took every last person I knew. Every last person I ever spoke with, so much as said hi to, he took away.”

It’s terrible. Awful. Waverly can’t find words other than what’ll turn into barfing sounds. Dolls pats her shoulder again and stands, strong and proud and grinning.

“Looks like we’re both rebels. Get some sleep, alright? Tomorrow might be our only chance to do anything.”

That’s when it hits her in full. Dolls isn’t just her mentor anymore. He’s her only other Sector 5 tribute. When the games end, and Nicole wins, the future of Sector 5 tributes won’t have anyone to teach them. No more Sector 5 tributes to piss off President Clootie. Maybe it was the intention all along.

-

Nedley and Nicole show up for a quick strategy meeting after breakfast. Nicole smuggles in Sector 4 seafood, immediately catching Waverly’s attention. 

They’ll keep the fake (“fake”) romance plan. This year there’s no sense in hiding skills, but there’s no hurt in spending time learning new ones, either. Dolls says forming an alliance is the most important thing to do, and Waverly wants to protest. The four of them are enough. When it’s just them, whatever stranger enters their group is going to be unpredictable. 

“I want Nicole to take the lead in recruiting people. Waverly, you can scout out others, too, but run it by her first.”

Waverly narrows her eyes. “I need permission to—”

“I know a few people we might want.” Dolls talks right over her, because he knows her. “Besides, Nicole has the best Careers connection. No offense, Randy, but they think you’re an old fart.”

Nedley shrugs. “So what if I am?”

“Nicole, I want you to focus on Rosita Bustillos. I know she can be difficult, but you two seem to get along.”

Waverly finds it odd he doesn’t suggest his own friend, Quinn. Just the girl who stripped in front of them in the elevator. Figures. 

Nicole, who so far has only been eating and nodding along, gives Dolls a thumbs up before making for the door. She stops here and winks at Waverly, declaring, “Charm time.”

The training gym is nowhere near as intimidating as it was last year. There’s no Champ, for one, and no one really seems all that motivated to show off. Most of them know one another, so what’s the point?

Nicole tells Waverly to act cool, to refrain from jumping into the intimidation. With this crowd, she’ll just get laughed off stage. Find a good time to start shooting her bow. Make some friends first, then wander over. Show off her other skills, too. 

Waverly finds herself at the weight lifting station, same as last year. That is, until that Jolene Del Rey starts staring at her and freaks her out. Jolene and her friend, Clayborn’s sister. She makes sure to tell Nicole she is in no way interested in having them on the team. No way in hell. There’s something Waverly doesn’t like about either of them, and the longer their eyes follow her around the room, the more she feels threatened. 

The knot tying station brings some comfort, because it’s on the other side of the room. Waverly sees Nicole talking with the male lumberjack, who seems all around awkward, before she joins Waverly. 

“Those Sector 2 girls have been staring at you,” Nicole says. “Have you noticed?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Waverly says. “I doubt they want to sit together at lunch and talk about life.”

“More like they’d rather have you for lunch. Any luck so far?”

“There’s a reason you’re the charming one,” Waverly says. 

“I am full of charm, this is true.” Nicole makes a point of pretending to hang herself, sticking her tongue out until Waverly laughs. “Okay,” she says when she’s done goofing around, “back to marketing. I did like Robin. Nice guy. Weird.”

Across the way, Waverly sees Nicole spend some time with Rosita. Throwing range. Waverly gets closer, just as Rosita throws an axe overhead and lands perfectly center. She nudges Nicole, who grabs a trident and throws it, full speed. It’s her non-dominant hand, and she’s just under the center. She used to hit the target dead center, no matter the hand. Nicole looks disappointed, but Rosita tells her everyone’s a little rusty, here. Nicole jokes she woke up one morning and her arm was gone. Must’ve misplaced it.

Waverly takes one more test at the edible plants station, just for kicks, and passes no problem. She sees Jolene in the corner of her eye and makes to go literally anywhere else. She heads towards Robin, who is talking with the Sector 3 man Dolls was friends with. She saw them talking earlier. Now Dolls is with Nedley, talking with Quinn. No training, just talking. She assumes Quinn has information on the other tributes. Because if Dolls is slacking, she’ll kill him.

When Waverly steps closer to Jeremy and Robin at the fire starting station, Jeremy is failing miserably at trying to start a fire with a couple sticks. Robin tries to help, but Jeremy is talking his head off about electronics at a pace Waverly can’t hope to follow. Luckily her presence gives Robin a saving grace as he talks over Jeremy, “Hey, you’re Nicole’s fiancée, right? Willy!”

“Waverly,” she corrects, trying not to laugh. Then she looks to Jeremy, who is eyeing her with an intensity that makes her feel slightly nervous. “You should, um, move your hands down as you go.”

The fire starts, and Jeremy begins mumbling about physics under his breath. Robin just smiles at her. “I’ve known him for years,” Robin says. “This is just something he does.”

Robin looks behind her, and she follows his eyes. Rosita spars with the training coach, armed with her axe. She swings the heavy weapon around like it’s nothing, much like the final tribute in Dolls’s games. Nicole throws spears with other Careers. Dolls takes the edible plants test with Nedley. Jeremy’s Sector 3 counterpart is drunk, walking clumsily around the gym and tripping over just about everything.

“She makes me nervous,” Robin says. “Rosita Bustillos. Did you know she’s a biochemist? That she reads medical journals for fun?”

“She’s the one to be afraid of,” Jeremy says, in words everyone understands and a volume everyone can actually hear. “Not those predictable Sector 2s. It’s the smart ones you have to look out for.” 

He stares at Waverly for a prolonged amount of time. At first she figures he doesn’t realize it. Then it hits her. Jeremy thinks she’s smart, and therefore, she’s dangerous, too. It’s kind of flattering, actually.

“I’ve heard the Sector 5 farms were shut down for fire watch,” he says. “Shame. Probably put a lot of people in a rough situation.”

There’s a test in here, and Waverly needs to figure it out. 

“No doubt upset a lot of people.”

Waverly gets it. Jeremy’s asking if there have been riots in her home, too. “We bounced back,” she says. He seems upset by it, like he was waiting for Sector 5 to riot, next. “I’ve heard the electronics delays in 3 are still ongoing.”

“Factory machines have never been reliable,” Jeremy says, smiling. “And Union people do love their technology. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

His eyes leave her, and she knows it’s with intention. She follows his new gaze, to the box above, where the Gamemakers watch them. Waverly doesn’t make a comment. Jeremy wants to test her wit, so she intends to pass. But she’s taking too long, and it’s beginning to frustrate her. Jeremy says something in passing to Robin about the last Quarter Quell, and she understands. There’s an odd shimmering in the light, when her eyes catch the right angle.

“They’ve put a forcefield up.” It’s her final answer, and she looks to Jeremy to see if she’s won. His smile tells her everything.

“To separate the animals from the proper folks.” He nudges Robin. “We’re animals, did you know that?”

“No,” Waverly corrects him, “there’s a reason for that. I kind of, um, shot an arrow at them last year.”

Jeremy bursts into laughter so loud, it makes the rest of the room stop. Then he stands, shaking Waverly’s hand. “I like you very much.” 

-

It is Waverly’s intention to sit with Jeremy and Robin at lunch, to talk more with Jeremy and see what other life saving skills she can learn from him, but Nicole ropes her into a crowd she dreads to spend time with: Careers. While the louder ones steal the conversation, Nicole leans in to get an update on Waverly’s luck so far. 

Nicole cringes when she tells her Jeremy and Robin are her choices. Well, Jeremy is her choice. But she’s pretty sure Robin is included with Jeremy, the same way Waverly is included with Nicole.

“You liked Robin!” Waverly argues, and Nicole cringes again.

“I mean he’s nice, but—”

“Come on, Haught.”

Nicole leans closer. “Rosita says Robin is a total weirdo. That he talks to trees. Jeremy’s smart, but he’s not always easy to understand.”

Waverly doesn’t care. Dolls told her to choose, and she’s chosen. “Jeremy and Robin,” she persists. Nicole sighs and rubs her temples.

“Okay,” she groans, “Jeremy and Robin it is.”

-

Nicole encourages Waverly to get to know some of the others. Of course, she meant the Careers, so Waverly decides to go in the other direction. She’s made her choice, and she won’t be swayed. 

She observes the Sector 3 who was drunk earlier. Apparently they’re still drunk, because they lay in the middle of the training floor and laugh uncontrollably at the ceiling. 

Sector 3 automobiles brings an older gentlemen who has to walk with the assistance of a cane, and Waverly wonders how he is expected to compete at all. He talks with her for a long while, about all the cars he now owns from his victory. All the races he’s done for fun in the Capital City. He says it’s been a long, boring life of miserable luxury. A year ago, she would’ve smacked him for saying luxury and the act of not starving is boring. But now she gets it. Sitting around the house all day, more money than she knows what to do with, while everyone else suffers, and there’s nothing she can do about it. 

The other Sector 3 tribute is an extremely muscular woman, and Waverly finds she can barely focus on a word of what she’s saying before ejecting herself from the situation. 

Careers are the only ones left, now. The Sector 1 tributes are nice, but Waverly can’t get along with them. Luckily, the feeling is mutual. She sees those two Sector 2 women from earlier staring at her, and she makes a beeline for Nicole. 

Waverly doesn’t make it to Nicole. She ends up diving to the ground, because a knife is flying in her direction. She doesn’t have to look to know who threw it. Nicole rushes to her side first, staring down the culprit. From across the way, Jolene Del Rey laughs and calls it an innocent mistake. Her hands slipped! 

It’s the end of their little recruiting run. Nicole sticks with Waverly, and Waverly doesn’t have much feeling to leave her. 

But the other tributes are laughing at her. These Careers are mocking her. Rosita seems to have the most fun, despite Nicole’s professional way of telling her to shut up. They still don’t see Waverly as one of them, and it makes her furious. So what if her kill count was low? If she looked away from Nicole in the lake? 

No, she can’t go on like this. She’s not going to start the games with everyone laughing at her. 

It’s time. 

She turns for the shooting gallery, a giant, closed off booth in its own corner. She hears Nicole telling everyone they won’t want to miss this. 

Nicole wants them to stop teasing her, too, and it gives Waverly all the confidence she needs.

Blue, holographic birds appear in the air, in pairs. Sets of them fly by at a timed rate, and Waverly easily syncs with it. The trainer in charge smiles, feeling a challenge, and she nods for him to turn the difficulty up. The pairs of two fly by, faster, in random patterns as opposed to straight lines. It’s nothing. Waverly nods again. A little faster. Three birds at a time. Standard speed. Faster speed. Four at a time. Fast, from the gate, in the craziest patterns the trainer can manage. Waverly doesn’t miss a single one of them, and she doesn’t trip over herself, either. She uses her splitting arrows trick. Other times, she lines up a few in a row and takes out multiple in one shot. It’s at least 50 in this round before the course ends. 

Waverly hears clapping and turns back to the trainer, but he’s not the one doing it.

It’s the Sector 1 miner, clapping. She isn’t the only one standing at the glass, watching. Waverly sees expressions of awe. Some jealousy. Hatred, from the Sector 2 women that embarrassed her. Waverly leaves the booth with a wide grin, because it’s hard to not act smug after being teased and embarrassed by her peers.

As she walks, Waverly hears Dolls’s friend, Quinn, tell everyone, “Now that’s a victor.”

-

Later, at the penthouse after dinner, Dolls informs Waverly more than half of the tributes want her on their team. Nicole jokes they should’ve just started with the shooting. They could’ve just sat around for the rest of the day and let the work do itself. Even the Sector 1s that didn’t like her are asking for her. But Waverly already made her choice, and she’s sticking with it.

“I’m taking Jeremy and Robin.”

Dolls cringes almost as hard as Nicole did earlier. “I like Jeremy, too. He’s a nice guy, but—”

“Those are my choices.”

He looks to Nicole for help, but all she does is shrug and say Waverly’s made up her mind. “You heard the lady,” she adds, and Dolls gives up.

“I’ll tell them you’re still deciding,” he says, before walking off.

Waverly expects everyone to pester her the next day, when they gather again for the judge demos. But everyone sticks to their own corners, talking about what it is they plan to actually demonstrate to people who already know them. 

This reassessment is nothing but a test of time, to see if these victors are still entertaining, and no one is blind to that fact. Someone jokes they’ll try and start their standup comedy career. Another person says they’ll sing off key until the judges beg them to leave. Another one says they’ll strip. Waverly hears Nedley say he plans to take a nap. Nicole laughs and says she’ll consider doing the same.

In the Sector 5 assigned seating, Waverly observes them all. Laughing, getting along. She knows all of them. How they all won. What their skills are, from what they displayed in the training gym. What they’ve been up to, and what their personalities are. It only makes her sit closer to Dolls. “Can we really kill all these people?”

Dolls doesn’t answer, because he can’t. Instead, he realigns her focus. “I know it’s tempting to goof around, but remember to give them the best you can. Shoot, or climb, or show off your other hunting abilities. Hell,” he laughs, “draw them a mural. Whatever you can. Something impressive.”

For Nicole, she will. When it’s just the fishing region and Sector 5 left in the room, Waverly tells Nicole to try the same. Tie knots, lift something heavy, show she isn’t weak because she has impairment. Nicole just jokes napping would’ve been a huge statement, before her name is called and she disappears. Then it’s Dolls, and Waverly’s alone with her thoughts.

The demos are supposed to be 10 minutes, but they don’t call Waverly in until after 45. Dolls did something. He had to. He did something, and he made the Gamemakers angry. 

When she finally enters the room, she can smell cleaning product. One of the training dummies is shinier than the others, and the closer she gets, the more she smells the product. A rope hangs from the ceiling, clearly cut down by someone. Dolls  _ did _ make them mad.

Charlie Del Rey is standing in front of the Gamemakers gathered in the booth above, and he tells Waverly to present her chosen skill. They’re watching this year. They’re actually kind enough to take their attention away from the giant feast and all the alcohol behind them. There’s a forcefield in front of them, anyway. She wouldn’t be able to convince them, if they repeated last year.

Last year they didn’t care. It was a celebration. A social gathering. Her life meant nothing to them. It probably still means nothing to them. This is a game, and she’s a player they’re going to toy with until they become bored with her. Bored with the fake relationship, the fake makeup, the clothes, the rehearsed dialogue. Bored with the fake Waverly Earp they’ve created. The one President Clootie wants to exist so badly, and yet stabs her in the back anyway with this Quell.

Dolls told her to be remembered. Something impressive.

He told her to draw a mural.

She won’t be remembered as the fake Waverly Earp. She wants to be the real thing, right here. She’ll die in that arena, as herself, and she wants these Gamemakers to know who she is before they can take her.

Waverly gathers every single item from the camouflage station, the red and black curiously low, and kneels to the ground. 10 minutes. It’s a stretch, but she can do it. She’s seen the girl’s face a million times, and she’s repeated this memory in her mind dozens and dozens of times. It’s visited her in her dreams, dozens and dozens of times.

It takes her nine minutes. Nine minutes to recreate the scene of Rachel Valdez in a field of flowers, the funeral Waverly put on her for last year, the one they omitted from the recap and probably from the games entirely. 

This is who Waverly is. It’s who she was, before everything went wrong. It’s who Nicole was, before everything went wrong. Rachel will never leave her mind, because she can’t let go of their time together. This is how it ended. This is how everything else began. 

She doesn’t thank the Gamemakers for their time or say anything pleasant. She tells Charlie to enjoy his games, before storming out of the room for what she hopes is the final time.

The words MURDERED IN CELEBRATION are left in the room with the mural, painted with the last of the red.

-

Luckily, they’re only lenient about Nicole entering the Sector 5 penthouse because of the whole romance thing. Waverly wonders otherwise what would happen if it were a free entrance sort of thing. 

For one, the nice dinner Waverly has with her team would be ruined by the constant staring of Jolene Del Rey. She’s happy when no one brings the incident up. They could theorize for hours why Jolene seems to hate her, and why on earth she shares a last name with the Head Gamemaker. Why no one can seem to pinpoint which games it was she won. Jolene isn’t more important than their time, and they spend tonight talking final strategy and waiting for the judges' scores to go public.

Nedley tells them he tied a bunch of rope together to represent a giant middle finger flipping the Gamemakers off. Nicole threw tridents and spears at the forcefield until she terrified them enough to be sent out. Waverly tells them about her mural, and it causes even Doc to burst into laughter. Nicole calls it genius.

“Did you intimidate them by doing pushups the whole time?” Waverly teases Dolls. Obviously he didn’t. Obviously he did something that made them angry.

Dolls isn’t shy. He comes right out and tells them he hung a dummy and painted it to represent the former, now deceased Head Gamemaker. The one who was killed because he let Waverly and Nicole have their way. 

Waverly laughs so hard, she can’t breathe.

It’s no surprise when the scores come in. Nedley is given an eight. Dolls, Waverly, and Nicole are given perfect 10s. First time in history. Waverly knows it isn’t a good thing. It can’t be.

“We did make them mad,” Dolls says. “They’ve just put a huge target on our backs.”

-

The former mentors turned partners give Waverly and Nicole the day off. There’s no need to prep for the interviews, because they already know what to expect. The only advice either of them are given is to win the crowd, same as last year. Dolls tells Nicole to do whatever she can come up with. Something that’ll floor the crowd. He tells Waverly to remind everyone about the relationship Clootie was so obsessed with a few months ago.

They spend the day, goofing off on the roof. They have until evening for the final interviews. Then it all starts, again. Waverly puts it at the back of her mind. Right now she’s with Nicole, and nothing else matters.

Nicole points out Union citizens below and speaks for them in silly voices. Waverly draws horrendous outfits out of random objects she imagines the Union would see as fashion. They throw apples at the forcefield surrounding the roof and catch them when they jump back. Nicole eventually takes her fake arm off and uses it as a bat.

Waverly draws Nicole as she lays here and sunbathes. As she laughs when it’s Waverly’s turn to mock the people below. They give each other fake interviews and spend their allotted time talking about shoveling horse crap and how they’re so excited to return to it.

Before it’s time to leave, Nicole sneaks back to her own floor, and returns with an entire picnic. She tells Waverly more about Sector 4 before Dolls appears and tells them it’s time to go. 

Back stage, Waverly’s mood is sucked away as her prep team begins to cry. They’ve become fond of her, but she can’t find any sympathy within herself. Every time they’re here, it means it’s time to do something for Clootie. She associates them with misery, and she can’t find it within herself to say anything nice. 

Waverly can’t do the same to Fish when she sees him, because he’s been nothing but supportive since she’s met him. Truly, he’s on her side. He doesn’t spend the time talking about how sad everything is. He spends the time helping her.

Though this time, Fish didn’t have much to do with her outfit. He presents her the wedding dress the people voted for. Then he tells her she’ll be twirling again this year. When the time’s right, towards the end. Fish made modifications, and she can’t wait to see what he’s about to do. The message he’s going to send to the Union.

She catches Nicole wearing the suit the people voted on for her. They’re matching, wearing mostly white with the blood red the president is so obsessed with. It attracts attention. Jolene Del Rey remarks, laughing, she can’t believe Waverly is wearing a wedding dress. Her friend Cleo calls it ridiculous. The order is reversed this year, with Sector 5 going last, so it gives them plenty of time to get their comments out before they’re called onstage.

When they finally leave and silence falls, Rosita turns to Waverly. “Clootie made you wear that?” 

Waverly nods. It makes Rosita grin. 

“Then you should make him pay.”

It’s what all the tributes have been doing. Even the Sector 1 girl who said she was excited to come back remarks it’ll be sad to go back into the Hunger Games, because she’s really grown to love the people. The other miner says it’s a shame he’ll never get to see what the future has in store for the beautiful jewelry the people of his homeland craft with their hands. It’s fashion, so it makes the crowd lose their minds.

Jolene shames the crowd for not knowing who she is, and spends the rest of her time talking the games down. Why fight so hard to live, if she’s going to be forgotten? 

Cleo tells stories about her siblings. She tries to win the crowd over with them, but all Waverly sees is Holt Clayborn beating her sister and she has to tune the whole thing out before she loses her mind. 

She zones back in just in time for Jeremy to challenge the president. Surely if the president is in charge, he can change the rules of the Quell. If not, then what power does he really hold? Rosita builds on this. Maybe Clootie didn’t change the rules because he doesn’t care about them. They’re supposed to be warriors, heroes of the people, as the Union has said for years, and he doesn’t care about them. What else has he lied about?

The crowd is boiling and riled up just in time for Nicole’s interview. Atlas remembers Nicole being easy to talk to. Waverly can see he needs one of these interviews to go well, the way he’s beginning to sweat. 

But Nicole doesn’t respond to anything he says. She doesn’t say a word, only surveys the crowd as her time runs out. He makes a comment about her outfit and the wedding, and it causes her to look over at Waverly, backstage. Time is running out. Waverly sees the idea pop into Nicole’s head, and she can’t help but laugh to herself.

Finally, Nicole leans closer to Atlas, and Waverly sees the man’s face light up. Nicole might save the night for him. Or so he hopes. 

“Can I tell you a secret, Atlas?” Nicole asks.

“Oh, of course!” he says, excited. He practically jumps out of his seat as Nicole leans in close. He even takes his hat off. 

Nicole makes sure to talk loud enough for the microphone to catch her voice.

“Waverly’s pregnant.”

The room goes completely silent. Waverly’s so impressed by Nicole’s lie, she can barely react. Then the time ends and Nicole gets out of her seat, and the entire room reanimates into chaos. Atlas stumbles over himself trying to get everyone to calm down.

Dolls builds on the topic, without hesitation. “Waverly and I are the only living victors of Sector 5,” he tells Atlas. “We’ve gotten quite close. She comes over to my house for tea. Her sister brings me fresh produce. I was one of the first people Waverly told, you know. I was looking forward to watching that kid grow. I mean, I fought tooth and nail in the last Quarter Quell, Atlas, and now I’m going to die in the next.” Dolls looks to the crowd, almost dramatically. “I thought I had more to offer than this.”

Everything hits peak chaos when Waverly enters the stage in her dress. It was one thing seeing Nicole, but with Waverly, now that they know supposedly Waverly is having a kid . . .

Atlas immediately asks about it, as if he’s fine with the entire show falling apart rather than change the subject. Waverly’s read hundreds of books over the years. She’s never thought to become a storyteller, but she figures if this is her last chance to try, she’ll try.

She tells them everything. How Clootie helped them directly with getting an artificial pregnancy. The kid was going to have Nicole’s hair and Waverly’s eyes. Waverly questions why Clootie would work so hard to help her, if he was planning on sending her back into the games with this Quell—surely he was aware there was no one else from Sector 5 to take her place. 

It’s a challenge not to burst into stomach-aching laughter as she turns up her acting dial, forcing herself to become more emotional.

“Nicole had no choice but to volunteer, to protect me,” she cries. 

Even Atlas looks like he’s ready to beg for Clootie to call the games off, and she has to look away before she blows her cover with laughter. She’s playing them all, and it’s thrilling to be on the other side, for once. 

“These games are going to take away my wedding and my family.”

The crowd loses what was left of their minds, and Waverly knows it’s time. Her interview is about to end, and she tells Atlas, for him, because he’s been so kind, she’ll twirl one more time. The dress devours itself in fire, more than the year before. The outfit is changing, and for a second Waverly begins to panic. Then she remembers Fish made it. She knows better than to question him. 

The dress is completely destroyed, and morphs into something else. Her shoulders feel heavy, and she turns her head to see what has become of her outfit.

It’s turned bright blue, not black this time. Actual  _ wings _ are on her back now, representing an apparently upgraded version of her angel outfit from the opening ceremonies. 

Waverly thinks of those odd symbols she kept seeing over the homestead. Angel wings, painted in blue every time without fail. This is a deeper message, and she’s frustrated she can’t sit down right here and figure it out.

As the crowd fully begins to protest, the Union’s anthem music is played at full volume. Everything is going wrong, and it’s a delicious change. Dolls gets an idea and holds Waverly’s hand. Nedley’s. Nedley holds Nicole’s. It goes all the way down the line, and the tributes are standing in unity, the one thing the Union preaches but never maintains. That’s when the lights go out and everyone is rushed back to their floors.

There’s no plans for the Union to air anything from tonight. Waverly has no idea what the cover story is going to be, but she doesn’t really care. Doc and everyone else from the Union were sent home, but it doesn’t look like they’re cancelling the games. 

Either way, they did something, something big, and she toasts a drink to Dolls. They made Clootie mad for a change, and it feels amazing.

The roof access is still open despite the chaos, and first thing Nicole does is pick up Waverly and swing her around, laughing and laughing at the trouble they’ve made. Waverly takes the chance to kiss her.

“Nicole,” she laughs, “that was genius!”

“Thanks for playing along. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

They sit here one last time, and Waverly jokes she won’t spend the time yelling at Nicole this year. She doesn’t expect much conversation, just a silent night staring at the stars. For a few minutes it is, until Nicole asks Waverly what weddings in Sector 5 were like.

“We had more freedom to marry or not to marry back home. It didn’t really feel like an obligation. If you were married, you were married. If you weren’t, it wasn’t a big deal. Um, usually the bride would put on a simple dress and the groom would wear something that wasn’t clothes he wore in the field. The people who lived closer to the clothing factories splurged on nicer outfits. In Purgatory, we didn’t really bother. You’d sign papers at the Justice Building and get property, and break in the new property with a celebration with your close friends and family. Everyone would try and bring whatever they could to eat. Bread and fruits, usually. I’m not really sure what my parents did. Mama had bigger property, so I’m sure it was something big.”

She sees Nicole’s eyes are closed, picturing it. Waverly isn’t sure if Nicole is picturing any old Sector 5 couple, or them. She whispers, “That sounds lovely.”

-

Dolls and Waverly see one another one more time in the morning before they’ll enter the arena catacombs separately. She spots his golden bracelet one more time as he tells her, “Remember who the enemy is.”

She takes the chance to remind him they’re saving Nicole. It’s all she wants. Save Nicole. Nicole Haught will be the winner of the 100 th Hunger Games. She doesn’t leave until he swears, one more time, that Nicole will be safe.

The outfit for the 100 th Hunger Games is waiting for her when she enters the catacombs, but she pays it no attention. This is the part where she’s allowed to say goodbye to her loved ones. Any moment, Wynonna will walk through the doors and Waverly will give her the last words she’ll ever speak.

Time passes. The doors never flinch. If they’re waiting for Waverly to put on her arena uniform, they’ll be waiting forever. She's not moving from the couch down here until she sees her sister. 

After a long, long while, the doors open. But it isn’t Wynonna. It’s Fish.

“I’m not who you’re expecting, I know,” he says. “They’re not doing transportation after what happened last night. I guess we really pissed them off, huh?”

Waverly laughs at that. Apparently they did.

He moves over to the outfit and begins to study it. The fabric is thicker than last year. But he barely needs to observe it before the fur collared coat gives it away. “I hope you’re good in the cold,” he says. 

He motions Waverly over and begins to help her into the outfit. The games are minutes away, and she’s not even dressed yet. She’s not ready yet, and it’s completely accurate to how she feels—she feels completely unprepared for these games.

“I’m not good in the cold,” she answers a moment later. The heavy clothes make her sweat down here, but the moment Fish walks her over to the elevator she begins to feel the chill of the arena.

The doors close, and Fish reminds Waverly a final time he’s rooting for her. “You can do this, angel.” 

She doesn’t have the heart to tell her she doesn’t plan on coming back. Probably a good thing Wynonna isn’t here. She would’ve lost herself.

A full minute passes, and the elevator doesn’t move. She looks to Fish, but all he does is shrug. Minute two arrives, and the elevator begins to rise at a rate much slower than last year. 

Waverly sees the doors behind Fish open. Two Peacekeepers rush out, a fury in their eyes as they draw their batons.

All Waverly can do is warn Fish with a scream before they’re on him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ough
> 
> Here it is, folks. The next chapter, we’re going to start the 100th Hunger Games. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this story. I know the Hunger Games is a gruesome subject, and I appreciate your time reading this story.


	19. Chapter 19

The image is burned into her mind forever. She’ll never forget this, never unsee it, never get over it. The games welcome her, but she barely registers it. All she sees is Fish, getting his head slammed over and over against that glass tube.

She needs to pull it together—Nicole needs her. Nicole. Where is Nicole?

Waverly finally looks at the arena, and suddenly the cold hits her. A chilled wind blows northeast, against the side of her face. The sun is bright but not warm. Snow surrounds the border of the frozen lake where they stand. Directly connected to the starting podium is a long strip of land, jagged rocks for each tribute to walk on. It tells her the lake ice is easy to break. 

It's a straight shot to the Cornucopia. No mutts here, only weapons, way more weapons than last year. She spots the bow, before the trident. Then she inspects the podiums, all the way until she finds Nicole, already looking at her. Nicole nods, and Waverly responds the same. 

Nicole is farther from the weapons. She’ll need to round the horn to the front opening. She's a fast runner, even with the messed up leg. 10 seconds left. Waverly will need to push herself.

The gong hits, and she sprints. One tribute tackles another immediately, and the ice cracks severely in the struggle. Waverly sees Dolls avoid something similar with a simple dodge. 

The second Waverly finds herself in the horn, united with a bow, she shoots the tribute who ran on her left. The right is nowhere to be found. Probably ran off. She shoots the person slowing Dolls down, and pivots just in time to catch Rosita in her crosshairs, behind her. 

Rosita flashes a golden bracelet on her wrist and shakes her head. 

“Good thing we’re allies,” she says, smiling, before falling serious. She grabs an axe and tells Waverly to duck before plunging it into someone’s neck behind Waverly. “I see Dolls. See where your girl’s at. I’ll keep watch here.”

Just like that, they’re officially allies. Dolls made the decision for her, like a mentor and not like a partner. Waverly can’t help but feel childish. 

She needs to focus.

Nicole throws someone over her shoulder, right through the ice, and completes the distance to the Cornucopia. Nedley follows. Nicole tosses him the other trident and carries a second sheath of arrows for Waverly. Waverly grabs a long knife and tucks it into her boot. Shoves another one into Nicole's, for good measure. Dolls makes friends with swords and throwing knives. Rosita, her ally, carries a second bow for Waverly. No time to ask, no time to explain. Just jump on board with her. 

Another alliance meets them on the way out. No Jeremy, no Robin—the two Waverly actually picked. They block the way into the trees, the way out of the bloodbath behind them, so Waverly has no eyes on her back. The archer, who stands behind everyone else, is tackled from behind and crashes right through the ice. She hears Nicole yelling before water rushes into her ears. She sees the light from the sun before the attacker’s body blocks it. 

Jolene Del Rey looks down on her, her hands happily wrapped around Waverly’s throat. Waverly swears she sees her laughing as they sink lower, sailing farther from the ice and the surface. Oddly, the water is actually warm. 

Above, Waverly sees ice break. Sees silver gleaming in the sun and red floating freely. Things move faster from here, and Waverly considers she blacked out for a moment. Suddenly Nicole is right on them, stabbing Jolene. Suddenly Waverly is on the surface again, coughing up water. Nicole dove in without a jacket and swaps out the dry one for the soaking wet one on Waverly. Dolls dries Waverly’s hair with his jacket. She knows she runs after that, but she can’t seem to piece it together. The warm water is now freezing her body, the further they go, the more time passes. The winds don’t offer to dry her, only freeze her. The only thing trying to help her is the fire she finds herself in front of. 

Her brain finally wakes up. “The fire is going to lead them up here,” she says. Dolls stops her from killing it.

“We’ll be fine,” he says.

At the same time, Rosita comments, “Then dry fast.”

Nicole takes the time to check on Nedley. He's stubborn like her, refusing help until she forces him to accept it. Waverly sees a knife grazed his arm. He jokes at least he didn't lose both his legs, and Nicole’s laughter is more than enough to take the edge off of Waverly. Then Rosita tells her to get a room and suddenly she’s frowning again. 

Waverly is dry, and they move on. Though she keeps Nicole's jacket. Hers barely fits Nicole, and yet Nicole keeps it. It makes Waverly smile.

They cross even deeper into the trees, and Waverly knows they're going farther and farther uphill. Nicole has to help Nedley as it gets harder, and Nedley continues to be stubborn as Nicole curses at him. 

Waverly covers the back. Rosita and Dolls take the lead, whispering about something. She knows it's more planning being done for her. Who knows if the allies she actually chose are even still alive. 

They’re reaching the edge of the arena. Waverly identifies the forcefield, to Rosita’s confusion, and claims the ear the Union repaired can hear things. Rosita calls her a weirdo and allows them to continue without further questions. 

Hopefully no one hits a forcefield. On the other hand, Dolls has strategy with this. 

The fact she's getting thirsty takes over all thoughts. They need to find water quickly. Apparently Dolls has read her mind, and asks her to climb a tree and scout for them. Nicole watches her back as the others rest a moment. 

The arena is perfectly symmetrical; a perfect circle. Even the lake, and the podium distances are even. Charlie a big math buff?

“Your maybe-daughter is an asshole,” Waverly mumbles. 

The snow is inconsistent around the arena. One fraction doesn't have snow at all. Suspicious. Intentional. She sees a stream nearby, flowing down from a mountain. Hopefully it's not poisoned. If it is, she'll happily share tea with Jolene. 

When Waverly returns to the forest floor, Nicole hands her a silver container. Telling her, confidently, to open it. A journal and three pens wait inside, and Waverly immediately sketches the arena. Nicole watches with the usual awe. 

“Anything interesting out there?” Nicole asks as they walk back. “Portal to home, maybe?”

“If there was, it was invisible.”

“Lame.”

The group is getting hungry, but they press on. No sense in stopping now. Sundown is upon them, and Waverly’s already heard horrific squealing and screaming. Mutts, no doubt. She sticks close to Nicole. There is no Cornucopia to hide on this time, though.

It takes the effort of a determined trident to destroy the ice covering the stream. Waverly tries not to think of Rachel, and watches Nedley instead. The fire from earlier revealed the true forest floor, with grassy mats perfect for weaving. He makes bowls for everyone and Nicole fills them all with water. Again, strangely warm. 

Waverly takes Nicole and goes hunting. Not the woods, but a fine substitute. Rabbits, and bigger, furrier creatures Waverly has never seen before. She stops to sketch one.

It’s Dolls’s idea to cook without a fire. He reveals an old trick from his book and burns the game against the forcefield, cooking fully with minimal smoke. Nicole jokes they won't have to worry about forest fires, at least. 

Dinner comes with a show, as they learn half the tributes died in the bloodbath. Robin and Jeremy are still out there. But so is Jolene. 

“Looks like all the victors are a little rusty,” Rosita says. “Hopefully the public gets a short games this year. Then back to their boring, pathetic lives.”

“Don’t forget the modifiers,” Dolls says. “Tomorrow we’ll have ten more enter the arena.”

“Children,” Nedley says, sadly. 

Waverly and Nicole sit together, against a tree trunk. Waverly, in Nicole’s arms, making sure she feels the weight so she can sleep. Nicole knows how cold she is and lets her stay, as long as she’d like. It’s a good trade off. Waverly knows, when Nicole pulls her closer, there’s more reason to it. It’s the kids. It’s being here, by the stream. She doesn’t have to say it. Waverly knows, because she thinks of Rachel, too. 

Out of nowhere, just before everyone falls asleep, they hear thunder. Waverly sees it, in the distance—lightning striking a giant tree across the arena. She counts 12 strikes. Dolls says they can discuss it in the morning, but it keeps Waverly in thought for hours. 

-

Waverly almost elbows Nicole awake when she feels rumbling. Earthquakes? In the arena? Really? But the way she sees Dolls, alert and on his feet—it’s something else. She wakes Nicole before Dolls can. Before the threat fully reveals itself to them, blowing in diagonally from another region of the divided arena.

“It’s an avalanche! Run!” 

No one needs much else. They all run downhill, as fast as they can, cutting through the trees. Rosita leads the herd. Cutting branches. Nicole helps Nedley along, half-carrying him. 

The alliance falls into an open space, a lengthy cliff stretching to their left when they enter. The path downhill is at the far end, looping around the steep fall. If they can make it, they can slide down. 

Debris starts flying everywhere. Tree branches, snow-covered rocks. They have some distance, but debris targets them. Something strikes Nedley down, and something else slices deep into Waverly’s leg as she tries to help him and Nicole. Nicole picks her up without hesitation, and struggles to lift up Nedley. Calling him lazy as he gives up. 

“Come on, asshole! Let’s go!” 

Something flies and hits Nicole harshly in the shoulder. She stumbles backwards, gripping Waverly with all she has as she stumbles over a branch. It sends them a few feet away from Nedley, and Nicole scrambles to grip Waverly where she’s landed against a tree. Waverly’s leg screams when she tries to stand on it.

“Nedley! Come on!”

Neither sees it, not until it’s too late. The giant branch that pierces Randy Nedley has no name, but Nicole damns it to oblivion. Waverly wants to shoot it, strangle it, kill it, but she can’t. And they’re out of time. 

Nicole forces herself onto her feet and rushes them from the violence, tripping over another branch and sending them both below with the others, closer to the open cliff. The avalanche follows, but it stops. Hitting an invisible wall and disappearing. 

Just as Nicole begins to curse, Dolls tells them all to be silent. Rosita is armed and on high alert, looking at something. The winds are too strong here, the visibility poor, too poor for Waverly to see. Then it charges from the unknown, a huge creature with white fur and a bare, gray chest she thinks is identical to a gorilla. It towers far over Dolls’s height, and it looks unlike anything Waverly’s ever seen. She considers it’s a hybrid of several other animals, because, as far as she’s concerned, the yeti isn’t a real creature. 

To make matters worse, something shoots at it from behind. They have company. Waverly forces herself to her feet—all her weight on her uninjured leg—and pulls Nicole along. Nicole has pent-up rage to release. Waverly can feel it. She charges at the first thing to jump from the shadows next to them, ramming her trident into it at full force.

But these aren't tributes. Not monsters.  _ They _ are, the heartless Gamemakers who put these children in here.

The yeti is attacked by Dolls and Rosita, the monster screaming horribly. Waverly can’t focus on it. Nicole is frozen in place. She just killed an innocent child, and starts to go pale. Nicole just lost Nedley.

Waverly is supposed to be protecting Nicole.

Dolls screaming wakes her up, and it wakes Nicole up, too. They rush closer to the yeti, closer to more panicking children tasked with the same hunt. Waverly makes an angle with her bow, trying to shoot the yeti somewhere universally vulnerable—she doesn’t know a yeti’s weak spot. 

Nicole tries to distract the monster, turn it to Waverly, avoid arrows from the kids thrown into this mess. Waverly manages the shot in time, but the games leave her no time to celebrate. The moment the yeti falls, an arrow pierces her shoulder. She loses balance.

Nicole screams and runs for her as she tumbles backwards over the cliff. Waverly feels the tips of her fingers before Nicole is too far out of reach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I struggled with in this story was keeping it different from the original. Both the games are definitely closest to the source in that aspect.
> 
> Next time, we’ll see where Waverly wakes up from her fall. And with whom...


	20. Chapter 20

The wind rushes into her in a way that blocks her ears, and keeps her screams from being audible. Yet, she clearly hears the crack of bone when she lands against a ledge. Feels it, too. For sure, she feels it.

The ledge shatters beneath her, and she crashes harshly once again on the same side. Same shoulder. Somehow she’s managed not to bump her head. When next she falls, she lands in a pile of snow that swallows her. The ice feels great around her shoulder, but nowhere else.

Waverly wakes much later. Much warmer, and much sheltered. But something feels wrong. Hunter’s intuition, she’ll call it. She keeps her eyes closed and listens. If Nicole is here, everything is alright. If not, then—

Something pulls harshly on her shoulder, and she is hit again with the knowledge she either broke something or completely dislodged it out of place. First the damn thing got shot, then she broke it. Next time she’ll set it ablaze and cook it for dinner. 

There's no hiding now. Waverly shrieks, flailing uncontrollably until the pulling stops and she sees her right arm, tied to a rope, held up in the air. The sight erases any tiredness left in her. The person holding the rope, no doubt the one who secured it to a rock in this cave, smiles down at her. Waverly eyes Jolene Del Rey back, hatefully. 

Jolene moves from the rope, standing over Waverly where she lays flat on the ground. She sees her bow on the other side of the cave, before Jolene obscures her vision and presses a boot into her upper chest.

“Quite a fall,” she mocks. Waverly doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. “About time someone throws you out like the trash you are.”

No satisfaction. Waverly only looks at her. Jolene presses down harder before walking away. She sits by a fire, other tributes in her alliance pacing outside. 

“Your friends will be here soon. I saved you, just for them. Let’s see how your lover looks with all her limbs removed.”

Finally, Waverly gives her the satisfaction. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I do? You’ve been gunning for me since the Training Center. I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry!”

Jolene laughs. Gets up, pulls the rope, and stretches Waverly’s definitely dislocated shoulder in a terrible way. “I don’t know why she wasted so much time on you. The one she lost; the one she needed to get back. You’re so great in her eyes. But from here? From here you look pretty damn pathetic.”

It’s a hot pile of nonsense, and Waverly doubts Jolene will bother to clarify anything. All she can do for now is lay here and wait. Stare at her bow helplessly. Slowly go hungry, as Jolene cooks and eats right in front of her. As Jolene pulls the rope, over and over, every time her body begs for rest. Her shoulder, yelling loud enough to keep her awake.

Lay and wait for Nicole. Just wait. 

Her brain tells her a story in the meantime. The last time she was this lost, it was her and Wynonna. One of the first times in the woods without Mama. Waverly was frustrated. Beyond frustrated. Wynonna got them lost, but she didn’t care. She claimed this was better. They could live out here, on their own. In the middle of nowhere, with no home, no shelter, drenched by the rain. They were better off. She laughed and danced and walked so freely. Waverly was annoyed. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to go home, to her bed.

She was an idiot.

She shoots awake when she hears screaming and the firing of a cannon. She tries to sit up, but she fails miserably the way her shoulder whines and complains. 

Jolene steps into Waverly’s field of vision, on her last defense. Tensed up, frightened. Waverly is the one laughing now. The irony of predator turning into prey makes her laugh every time. It’s enough to catch Jolene’s attention. Suddenly she’s not scared anymore. She’s angry. 

“You’re not walking away from this,” she declares, stepping onto Waverly’s chest again with the fullest of her weight. “I’m not the failure she thinks I am!”

The twin swords raise to kill Waverly, but she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shriek, doesn’t beg. She eyes the person standing by the entrance of the cave, sporting red hair and a silver, shining trident. Jolene follows her eyes. The world seems to slow as the redhead’s left arm launches forward, sending the trident away. An extension of herself. Jolene’s swords raise, ready to block. Ready to protect her face and thus her life.

They see it at the same time. Nicole wasn’t aiming high. She was aiming for Jolene’s legs. Jolene throws herself on the ground of the cave, but the trident still slashes across her calf. Nicole starts for her, full speed, but something else enters the cave. Nicole senses it and steps back at the last second as a pair of throwing knives fly past where she would’ve been. Cleo Clanton enters and decks Nicole before Nicole can get her own punch in. Jolene gets up and runs out of the cave behind her, and Cleo escapes before the knife Nicole throws can reach her.

Nicole allows herself exactly one minute of cursing before she scrapes herself off the ground and runs for Waverly at the back of the cave. She immediately cuts the rope with her trident, and Waverly groans when her arm falls to the ground and her shoulder screams yet again. 

“What’s wrong?” Nicole asks, inspecting her as she does so. 

“Sh-shoulder,” Waverly forces out. “My shoulder.”

Nicole leaves the cave for a moment, calling for someone at the entrance. Waverly can’t focus as Rosita kneels next to her and begins to argue with Nicole. Something about biochemistry versus chiropractics. But Nicole is Nicole, and eventually Rosita pops the shoulder back into place.

Waverly blacks out before she can hear any further bickering. 

-

Waverly wakes with a start, all the way until Nicole stops her. Nicole is here; nothing's wrong. Just a weird feeling of the rope, repurposed, tied elaborately around her person. Her right arm is completely hugging her side, forced to do so by the rope. 

“She wanted to make sure your shoulder set properly,” Nicole explains. She helps Waverly sit against the rocks and hands her another hand-woven bowl. They’re by the lake again, she can see. It's actually quite lovely without tributes slaughtering one another. 

Tributes.

“What’s going on in the games?” She's asked this question before. She's been here before. Only this time Nicole is here, healthy, with her. Nicole doesn't answer until Waverly drinks the water.

“Cannons have been going off like crazy.” Nicole starts, sitting next to Waverly. Waverly reaches out to hold her hand before realizing there's nothing there. Why is it always the right arm? “Definitely those kids. We've heard more than 10. They're killing us fast this year.” 

“Unless the second modifier is a zombie mode,” Waverly jokes. “Maybe I’ll get to throw something at zombie Jolene after we finally get her.”

It still doesn't make any sense why Jolene hates her so. It was personal. But why? Waverly's never met her in her life, and clearly Jolene walked in with this anger, this hate. 

But what's done is done. In theory, at least. She motions Nicole before Nicole can ask the same questions about Jolene. Nicole looks to the lake, and doesn't notice as Waverly eyes her, staring at her, studying her. The fire in the caves dances in her eyes.

“Jeremy and Robin showed up, so they're okay. Jeremy's talking about replicating his winning move and picking the places to electrocute. He'll use the lightning tree. He ran in yelling ‘tick tock, tick tock’ nonstop for 40 minutes before he calmed down enough to tell us.” 

Nicole finally turns to her. 

“Midnight, it’ll be just the alliance left. This is it. This is where we all forget how much we like each other and start throwing knives. Nedley says—used to say this is when you should run. Before things get bad. Let the old alliance spill their ‘friendship’ in the mud.”

“I'm sorry about Nedley,” Waverly says, and Nicole looks away again. “I know what he meant to you. And everything moved so fast—”

“He was going to die anyway, right?” Nicole asks sadly. Waverly reaches out now, her hand on Nicole’s thigh. 

“I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“I’m sorry I killed that kid. I mean—a fucking  _ kid _ , Waverly. How could they put them in the games? He looked like he was 13. 14? And I—fuck.” Nicole grows sadder by the second. “I’ve killed a lot of people. But that was too much.”

They have to win before the next drop. They need to hurry, but Waverly still takes a moment to pull Nicole close. Watching the lake before it's time for dinner, and Waverly goes with her to fish. Jeremy draws in the sand, talking strategy with Dolls. Dolls gives Waverly a bright smile as she passes him by. At least her mentor hasn't died. She hopes Dolls’s death is swift, no games.

Nicole, no surprise, catches them a complete seafood feast. She hasn't lost her touch with the hooks, And Waverly watches every time Nicole’s eyes light up, every time the line is pulled. She moves quickly, yanking the fish to the surface in no time. Waverly helps with the kill, piercing the fish with a knife before skinning it. Using more baskets Nicole made. 

Nicole senses Waverly’s stress and decides to flop backwards in the lake, sitting back up with a fish in her bare hand. Unfortunately it makes Waverly scream in fear, and Nicole runs off as Waverly chases her, lecturing her. They collapse on the beach, together. Nicole’s hair fans out in the sand.

Dolls cooks on the shore. Rosita and Robin get lumber. Jeremy stays hyper focused on his plans, all the way until his Sector sends food for them. Cocktail sauce. 24 rolls of bread. Sector 3 is generous. Something about this delivery makes Jeremy work harder, and quiets Dolls and Rosita. 

Waverly doesn't pay much attention to what they say and do. She's off in her own corner with Nicole, learning more about seafoods from Sector 4, remembering what Nicole made the Earps. The sauces she had imported. Waverly can't imagine life without it. Can't imagine life without Nicole. 

She’ll protect her to the last breath.

Nicole doesn't speak of it. Not until the others are asleep and night falls. Not until after the recap, when she sees her mentor's name in the sky and salutes him. She fiddles with something in her hand, in that anxious way she does.

“We need to talk.”

The words kill Waverly, because Nicole's about to make a hugely Nicole gesture. She talks before Nicole can make her pitch. “I told Dolls you have to live. So don’t. Don’t.”

Nicole sighs. Her fingers stop, and she looks frustrated with Waverly’s stubbornness. Wynonna was the only one ever amused by it, anyhow. "We didn't fight around obstacles, track you down, and fall into Jolene's ambush to let you die, Waverly.”

“Dolls promised—”

“I’m a better saleswoman, you know that.”

Nicole and her planning. Dolls and his secrets. Was Waverly one of those children? A pawn incapable of making her own decisions?”

“It has to be you,” Nicole says again .”Look.” 

She reveals another secret she’s kept from Waverly: she didn’t bring her shark tooth necklace this year. She has a locket, made in the same shape and golden tint of the mockingjay pin. When she opens it, Waverly finds a picture of Wynonna and Willa staring at her.

This is the most painful game of all: her feelings. Her love. Nicole is as smart as ever, and Waverly wants to resent her for it. But she can't, because she could never resent Nicole.

“You have them. And the horses, and the chickens, and the farmers market, and all the little kids who go out of their way to hear you read to them. They all need you, Waverly. They all love you. I love you, Waverly. And I want—”

“I love you, too, doesn’t that count for anything?”

Nicole exhales. “That counts for everything. But this is different. This isn’t last year. We have to face it, now, and the truth is, I don’t have anyone.”

“You have me. Chrissy needs you now, too.”

“She’ll be okay.”

“What about me?”

The idea of hurting Waverly hurts Nicole. It’s clear. Her fingers begin to fidget again, so Waverly occupies them with her hands. 

“Stay away from the alcohol.” Nicole tries to joke, but her voice shakes too hard. She’s terrified. 

This isn't just some noble offering. This is days of thinking. Preparation. Encouragement. Of course Nicole doesn’t want to run into the fire and burn. She wants to sit here, forever, with Waverly. She doesn’t want to dump the burden of living on for those who have fallen onto Waverly, but she doesn’t want to see Waverly’s name in the sky, either.

Waverly kisses her, with everything she can. With everything she can offer. All the time they’ve spent together. All the memories they’re supposed to make. The books, drawings, tattoos. The chickens Nicole’s supposed to argue with. The horses she’s supposed to break, to calm in the middle of thunderstorms. 

This is how she does it. This is how she will protect Nicole, by living on. By winning despite Clootie’s pathetic games, and never letting him forget what they did. What Nicole and she did, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene right here is why I did this AU. That, and I’m a sadist,,,
> 
> Happy premiere day! Can't wait to scream at my TV and then into the void shortly afterwards
> 
> Next chapter is actually the end of these Hunger Games and the end of the Catching Fire section. Then we move on to the Mockingjay section...


End file.
